We Keep Living Anyway
by Kaelin BG
Summary: This is the story of Jess's childhood in New York City with Liz, beginning with his first birthday and concluding shortly after he is sent to Stars Hollow to live with Luke. This is a prequel to my story "Guilt." The two can be read separately or in either order.
1. Prologue: Who Are You?

**A/N: Sorry for the long A/N. I'm going to try to keep them shorter on future chapters. This prologue is primarily told from Liz's perspective, however this will lessen over time and by the time Jess is seven the story will be primarily told from his perspective. The chapters will be spaced approximately two years apart, and my current plan is to have eight chapters after this one.**

 **For those of you who have not read Guilt, my version of Liz is primarily based on my impressions of her during the early seasons rather than her later characterization.**

 **I'd like to thank christinegrrl for betaing this story and for her encouragement. If you haven't already, check out her story about Jess called "Hard to Express." Thanks as well to everyone who reviewed/sent me PMs about my first story. I can't even really express how much more confident those messages made me and how much I think they helped me improve my writing. They are also a big part of the reason I was inspired to write this story.**

 **General story warnings: child abuse (of multiple kinds), some swearing (mostly during arguments, and not in every chapter). Those apply to the story in general so I won't repeat them in the future, but if there's anything not covered by those warnings in a particular chapter, I'll add another warning at the top.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Gilmore girls universe. I also don't own the story title or any of the chapter titles, as they are direct (or in one case, slightly paraphrased) quotes from the musical Hamilton.**

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Prologue: Who Are You?

Her name was supposed to be Liz Mariano. It wasn't supposed to be Liz Danes anymore. She was supposed to be happily married to the love of her life, Jimmy Mariano. She wasn't supposed to be sitting there in a small, crappy New York City apartment thinking about how it all went so wrong so fast and finding no answer other than the small, brown eyed boy in front of her. She certainly wasn't supposed to be stuck raising his brat alone. It wasn't supposed to be this way. This wasn't the way her life was supposed to be. This wasn't who she was supposed to be. It wasn't fair, and it was _the brat's_ fault.

The boy didn't know what day it was. He didn't know it was his first birthday, nor did he know that it was the first anniversary of his daddy leaving his mommy. All he knew was that his mommy was sad. He reached up to her. She snorted and shot up off the couch. She made her way to the kitchen for another one of the bottles he wasn't allowed to touch. The boy struggled to his feet and took a few wobbly steps in an effort to follow her before losing his balance and falling backwards onto his behind. The impact startled him and he began to cry.

The crying grated on Liz's nerves. Sometimes it seemed like all he did was cry. If she'd been objective, she might have realized that in truth he cried far less than his peers, but she wasn't objective. She was annoyed. Every pitiful shriek was a reminder that _this_ was her life now. This was her burden to bear alone. She couldn't stand it.

"Would you _shut up_!" She barked at the child, slamming the fridge door. The tears themselves only multiplied, but the boy swallowed his next sob. If she'd been objective, she might have realized it was amazing that her 1-year-old son was even capable of suppressing his cries for her sake at all, but she wasn't objective. So Liz rolled her eyes and turned away from him, wondering why he couldn't have just done that to begin with. It was like he was trying to piss her off.

She wasn't cut out for motherhood and she knew it, not that she would ever admit that to anyone else. She'd thought about giving him up after Jimmy left. She'd passed a fire station when he was two weeks old and nearly left him there. The only real reason she didn't was because she knew her father and brother would never forgive her. They wouldn't send her money, that was for sure. They'd fallen in love with the boy the moment they saw him. Lord knows why. She never did, and she was his mother. Although she tried to forget that fact as much as she possibly could.

Behind her the boy's suppressed sobs were piling up in his little chest. It was an uncomfortable, tight feeling. He was barely breathing, and eventually the boy couldn't help but take a small, ragged breath. Liz whipped back around to face him and charged towards him. It was the last straw. She picked the boy up roughly by his upper arms and tossed him none-too-gently onto the corner seat of the couch.

"I told you to shut up!" Liz yelled, pointing at the boy. The child swallowed another broken sob as Liz walked over to the other side of the room to get one of her young son's few belongings. It was a young child's fabric version of "Goodnight Moon," and it had been a present from her father. She didn't see the point at first. He couldn't read, and she wasn't going to waste her time reading to him. Books were pretty useless in her opinion, anyway, but this one proved its worth. He must have liked the pictures or something, because it was the one thing that would consistently shut him up. He'd just stare at it in virtual silence for hours.

"Here, Jess," she said harshly as she tossed the book at him. "Look at the book and _be quiet_. Understand?" There was a vague threat in her tone. He nodded his head, eyes wide, and did what he was told.

Liz left Jess alone and went to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her, and collapsed on her bed. The bed she should have been sharing with Jimmy, she noted. The bed she could at least have shared with a number of lesser loves who had run off at the first sight of Jess. He was running men off left and right. All he ever did was ruin her life. He sat. He stared. He followed her around. He wanted attention. He wanted to be taken care of. It was a constant stress. The little idiot couldn't even talk yet. Never said a word. Not that she really tried to talk to him, anyway. The only thing he was ever good for was conning her older brother. Now that their father had passed on, they were all the family they had.

"Jessie needs diapers," she'd tell him, "and I'm all out of money." Of course, the money rarely actually went to diapers. Or, "I can't be homeless with a baby, Luke! I just need a little rent money!" He always came through for them. He rarely said no to Liz. He never said no when it came to Jess's needs. She resented that a little. The boy was only connected to Luke through her, after all, so she should take precedence. _She_ should come first to her brother, but she didn't. Yet another man the brat had taken from her.

Liz knew, on some level, that she was supposed to love the boy. She should have been naturally overcome with motherly love. She should have found him breathtaking. Adorable. She should have thought he was the sweetest, smartest little boy in the world, with or without evidence, and gone around bragging about him to everyone she knew. It just never happened. A larger part of her thought that if the boy was all that special, then Jimmy would've stuck around. He wasn't exactly overcome with parental devotion, either. The common factor was Jess. It must have been the boy's fault. It couldn't have been theirs.

Liz leaned back against the pillow and let her bitterness devolve into grief. Jimmy was gone, and the hope that he would come back had slowly faded. He'd been perfect to her. Luke didn't like him, of course, but what did he know? Nothing. Jimmy was perfect. The only true love of her life. She missed him, terribly, all of the time, and the boy was nothing but a constant reminder of her loss.

He'd been a mistake, of course. An accident. They were in love, and they were in a rush, and Jimmy wasn't prepared and, well, Liz wasn't always that reliable with those pills of hers. They were so easy to forget. She was horrified when she saw the result of the pregnancy test. She was too young to have a baby, and she never wanted to be a mother, anyway. She feared that Jimmy would leave her, but he didn't. He was surprised, and scared, but he didn't leave. They got over their shock and talked about their options. Liz didn't want to keep it. She'd even scheduled an appointment at a local clinic to get rid of the problem. It had been Jimmy who wanted him. He'd been the one to convince her to cancel that appointment. He'd been the one to go out and buy a crib months before they needed it. He'd seemed happy. Excited. They'd gotten married. He'd told her they'd be in it together. He'd told her they'd be a family. He'd told her that he'd help her be a good mother. He'd told her he'd be a good father. He'd painted her an image of the perfect family, and then he'd abandoned them both.

She knew she should be mad at him. She should hate him. She shouldn't take him back even if he did show up. The anger at him would come, she knew, but at the moment all she could do was miss him. She still loved him. She still loved the life they'd had together. She still loved the life she'd _thought_ they'd have together. She couldn't blame him for leaving. She couldn't blame him for the tears streaming down her face. She couldn't blame him, but the blame had to fall somewhere.

Occasionally, when she was clean and sober and in a reasonably good place, a very small part of her recognized that she was in the wrong. There were moments when she'd look at the boy and she wouldn't see Jimmy. She wouldn't see her loss. She wouldn't see her father's disappointment or her brother's judgment. She wouldn't see the string of men who'd left her because he existed. She'd look at him and just see a little boy whose only real crime was being born and, that tiny part of her knew, that wasn't really his crime at all.

Those moments were very few and very far between.

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 **A/N: I hope to post an update on this story about once a week.**

 **If you would like to know that somewhere in the world someone is experiencing an overwhelming feeling of goodwill towards you and hoping all the wonderful things in the universe come your way, leave me a review or send me a PM! You don't need an account to leave a review. I really appreciate all feedback, constructive criticism very much included!**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: We have a Luke sighting!**

 **Thanks to christinegrrl for betaing this story, and to everyone who faved or followed it!**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own Gilmore girls. The title is from _Hamilton_.**

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Chapter 1: Something They Can Never Take Away

Liz had gotten up early that day, early for her at least, and spent the first few hours of her day cleaning her small apartment. It looked almost presentable by the time her brother Luke arrived. The visit had been his idea, and for once she'd been unable to come up with an excuse he would accept for avoiding it. It just tended to be better keeping his disapproval at a distance, but today she was actually looking forward to the visit. She did love her brother. When the doorbell rang, she rushed over to open the door.

"Big brother!" Liz nearly shouted, flinging herself at him. "It's so good to see you! Come in! Come in!"

"Good to see you, too, Liz. You look good! So, where's the birthday boy?" Luke looked around the apartment, taking most of it in in a glance. There was a wall immediately to his left, and to his right was a small kitchen. It seemed clean, if a little messy. The refrigerator was making an odd noise, but he quickly tuned that out. There was a tiny table with a couple of flimsy looking folding chairs. Past the kitchen was an equally small living room with a couch, an armchair, a coffee table, and a TV. Based on the dishes on the coffee table, he'd guess that's where his sister actually ate. To the left of the fridge and to the right of the armchair were two closed doors, and off to his left was a solitary door that was open a little and clearly led to a bathroom. Liz was flitting around excitedly, but Luke had yet to catch sight of his young nephew. Luke stepped further into the apartment, dropping a small bag on the floor by the door as he did so.

The birthday boy, unbeknownst to either adult, had been watching their interaction from his position sitting next to the far end of the couch in the living room, where he'd retreated as soon as the doorbell rang. He was easy to overlook where he was, which was why he liked the spot, but he could still see the majority of the apartment. He watched with caution as the man with his mommy walked further into the apartment. He didn't like it when his mommy brought men home. If they paid him any attention at all, they usually weren't very nice. Most of the time they just made his mommy ignore him even more than she normally did.

"Jess?" Liz called into the apartment. Jess ignored her. He didn't want to come out. Liz waited a few seconds before calling out again, this time with a hint of irritation in her tone. "Jess, baby, come on out. I want you to meet someone."

Jess emitted a tiny sigh before leaving his spot by the couch and heading toward the kitchen where his mommy and the man were waiting. He still didn't want to go, but he knew he'd get in trouble if he didn't. All the same, he couldn't help but stop in his tracks when the man turned and looked at him. Jess would have taken a few steps backward when the large, intimidating man walked towards him if he hadn't been rooted to the spot. To his surprise, the flannel-clad man plopped down to sit on the floor in front of Jess. None of the men his mommy had brought home had ever done that before. The man was a little less scary at this level. A little.

"Hey there, kiddo!" the man said to Jess. Jess just stared at him. "I'm your uncle Luke!" His uncle? Jess glanced towards his mommy and then went back to staring at Luke. "Do you remember me?" The answer was "no," but Jess wasn't sure that was the right answer, or even an acceptable answer, so he didn't respond.

"You excited about your birthday?" Luke asked, hoping that might get a response. Other than provoking a slight crease between the boy's eyes, it didn't. Was he still too young to know it was his birthday? "Well," Luke continued, "if you're not, then you should be! Birthdays are special! So, what do you want to do today?"

In the next room, Liz rolled her eyes. "Don't bother asking him questions like that, Luke, he doesn't talk." Luke's puzzled expression mirrored his nephew's as he looked back towards his sister.

"What do you mean, 'he doesn't talk'?"

"I mean he doesn't talk!"

"At all?" Luke asked incredulously.

"Not a word," Liz replied, unconcerned.

"He's three years old!" Luke said, voice rising slightly.

"I'm aware, Luke! He's _my_ kid, y'know!" Luke looked back at his nephew with concern and found that the boy was now staring at the floor instead of at him.

"It's ok, kid," Luke told him, ruffling his hair. "You don't have to talk to me. I'm gonna go talk to your mommy for a little bit."

Luke made his way over to Liz in the kitchen. "I don't know a lot about kids, Liz, but I do know that 3-year-olds are supposed to talk!" Luke tried to keep his voice down so the child in question wouldn't overhear them talking about him.

Liz didn't take the same precaution, speaking in the tone she used regularly. "He'll nod and shake his head and stuff, and he'll do what you tell him. He just doesn't talk. It's no big deal! He'll talk when he's ready!"

"Is that what his doctor says?" Luke asked, still keeping his voice low. Liz avoided his eyes and didn't answer the question. "You _have_ talked to his doctor about this, right?" Luke asked sharply.

"He's fine, Luke!" Liz responded, anger seeping into her tone.

"He might need help, Liz! What if something's wrong?"

"There's nothing _wrong_ with him, and if you don't want to accept that, then you can leave! I didn't have you come here so you can question my parenting and tell me there's something wrong with my kid!" Jess could only hear half of the argument, but his mother's raised voice had started to frighten him and her words confused him. She usually thought there were a lot of things wrong with him, and apparently now his uncle did, too. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd done wrong or, for that matter, what he'd done to make his mommy defend him.

"Liz..." There was a slight apology in Luke's tone, an awareness that he'd perhaps lacked some tact, but primarily the word was full of concern and the knowledge that he was right when it came to the merits of his argument.

"I mean it," Liz answered. "Drop it, or get out and don't come back!" Luke huffed. He didn't want to drop it, but he also didn't want to ruin the poor boy's birthday. He didn't take the "don't come back" part seriously. His sister liked to make proclamations like that, but she never stuck to them.

"Fine, I'll drop it," Luke said before turning back to the now apparently empty living room. "Where'd he go?" Luke asked.

"Jess!" Liz said in a sharp tone, "get out here, NOW!"

"What is your problem?" Luke objected. "He didn't do anything. You're mad at me. Don't take it out on him." Liz let out a humorless laugh.

"Whatever, Luke. You know what? You just came here to see him, anyway, so why don't the two of you have fun. I'll be in my room."

"Liz, c'mon!" Luke pled, disbelieving and agitated. "Don't do that!" So much for not ruining the boy's birthday, Luke thought as Liz ignored his plea. Now his mother wasn't even going to celebrate with them. What was he supposed to do with a 3-year-old, anyway? A 3-year-old who doesn't talk, no less? A 3-year-old who had not, despite his mother's assertions that he _could_ do so, so much as nodded or shaken his head to a thing Luke had said.

Jess had come out from his spot by the couch when his mommy yelled, but he'd gone no further than to stand in front of it. He watched with trepidation as Liz stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door, leaving Jess alone with the man who called himself his uncle. A man who had raised his voice earlier and was angry now. He didn't like it when his mommy brought men over, and he _really_ didn't like it when she left them alone with him. They were so much meaner when she was gone. Especially when they were already angry.

Jess watched his uncle sigh and turn in his direction. He couldn't help the tears that came unbidden to his eyes as Luke quickly started towards him.

"Ok," Luke said mostly to himself as he made his way over to the boy, "we'll be fine. Yeah. We'll have-" Luke abruptly stopped talking when he got close enough to notice the tears threatening to fall from his nephew's eyes. His unease immediately doubled. "Why are you crying?" he asked before instantly chastising himself. _Great, Luke, that's just great. Ask a kid who can't talk why he's crying. That'll make him feel better._

Jess had started rubbing his eyes when Luke asked why he was crying. That question was usually followed by a "stop crying" order, but in this case it never came. Instead, Luke began to awkwardly pat his head in an attempt to comfort him.

"It's ok, buddy. I'm sorry your mom and I were yelling," Luke told the boy. The child looked up at him, and to Luke's amazement the tears were gone. Luke scooped him up, not noticing the little body tense up, and settled himself on the couch with Jess on his lap. He began to rub the boy's back. "We weren't mad at you, I promise. Your mom needed a little break, but you and I can have some fun, just the two of us!" Jess slowly began to relax. Somehow Luke didn't seem like those other mean men.

"You feeling any better, buddy?" Jess looked up at Luke and, after a little hesitation, gave him the briefest of nods and the tiniest of smiles. Luke grinned in response. _Communication!_ "Great!" he said, patting Jess on the back, "then I have an idea for something fun!" Luke picked the boy up and walked over to the door to pick up the bag he'd left there earlier. He brought both back to the couch before opening the bag and pulling out a rectangular, gift-wrapped item.

"This is for you!" Jess's eyes widened and he pointed at himself, hardly daring to believe it. He'd only ever seen his mommy get presents. "Yes, you!" Luke answered, laughing slightly. "It's for your birthday! Go on - open it up!"

Jess reached out for the paper on the present in Luke's hands, but he pulled back before touching it. He feared a trick. "You want me to get it started?" Luke asked, and this time Jess didn't hesitate to nod. Luke started tearing off the paper and partway through Jess joined in. His eyes lit up when he saw what it was, and he offered Luke a wide, unrestrained, crooked little grin. His whole face shone as he held the opened gift.

"Guess that means you like it?" Luke asked, smiling. His nephew nodded his head vigorously and started pushing his present insistently into Luke's hands.

"You want me to read it to you?" Jess nodded again. "Alright, then, let's see... 'Block City. What are you able to build with your blocks? Castles and palaces, temples and docks. Rain may keep raining and others go roam, but I can be happy and building at home.'"

As Luke continued to read to him, Jess settled back against his chest and began to melt into him in the way only young children can. He'd decided that he liked Luke. Despite his past experiences with others, he somehow felt safe and comfortable with Luke. In fact, he couldn't remember ever feeling so safe and comfortable. As soon as Luke was finished, Jess flipped the pages back to the beginning and looked up at Luke with that same endearing, crooked smile, although this time it was a little smaller and hesitant. There was a question in his eye.

"You want me to read it again?" Luke asked. The boy nodded, and Luke started over again. When he finished, he started again. And again. Halfway through the fifth reread, Liz reemerged from her room and went to the kitchen for a beer and some food. The appearance of his mother signaled to the child that the reading would likely end soon, so he soaked in the words as best he could. No sooner had the story ended than Luke turned to talk to Liz.

"Want to join us?" Luke asked her, hoping she would join in on at least some of her son's birthday.

"No, Luke, I don't." Liz answered shortly.

Jess clutched his precious book, now closed, to his chest. He pulled gently on Luke's shirt to get his attention back. When Luke turned to look at the boy in his lap, Jess lifted the book slightly to indicate it.

"Thank you," Jess said. His voice was soft and small, but his words were clear as day. Luke gaped at him for a few moments before turning to an equally astonished Liz.

"You said he didn't talk!" Luke said in an accusatory tone.

"He didn't!" Liz stared at her son in shock. Jess seemed to melt even further into his uncle's chest.

"Will you read it again?" Jess asked quietly, hoping to prolong the feeling of safety and comfort he found in his uncle's arms and wanting to diminish the amount that both adults were currently staring at him. Luke's eyes widened, but he smiled at Jess.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, buddy!" Luke started all over again, this time making a game out of it. He asked Jess to repeat each line after him, and Jess did so without fail. He stumbled over a word here and there, and his voice was childish and unpracticed, but he was easily understood. Each time he repeated a line, Jess was rewarded with an increasingly ecstatic look from his uncle. Jess couldn't help but respond with a small smile of his own. The approval made him feel light and happy. The boy was so focused on Luke that he failed to notice the increasingly dark mood of his mother.

Luke was thrilled with Jess. To think he'd been worried about the child! The boy was fine. Great, even! After a few more readings he could repeat two or three lines at a time. He could even recite the entire ending, word for word, without prompting. Luke had gone from thinking his nephew was developmentally behind and potentially in desperate need of help to thinking he was a genius in a single afternoon.

"Is that your favorite part?" Luke asked Jess. Jess stared at the last page and nodded. "What do you like about it?"

Jess thought about it, but in the end he just gave a little shrug and said only, "I like it." He wasn't able to explain, even to himself, what it was he liked so much about the ending. It just left him feeling a little sad, and a little happy, and at peace. In truth, it was the idea of it, really, that appealed to him. The idea that you could build worlds and, blocks or no blocks, you could return to those worlds whenever you wanted to in memory. He hadn't built Block City, but he could see it. It was as real to him as the table in front of him, and he wouldn't forget it any sooner than the boy in the story would.

Luke smiled at the child. "Well, that's a good enough reason for it to be your favorite." Jess looked up at him with a lazy smile and a childish gleam in his eye. Luke laughed. "Again?" he asked. Jess nodded. "Ok, one more time, but then I have to head back home to Stars Hollow." With that, Luke began the story again.

When the story was again complete, Luke handed the book to the boy and set him gently on his feet on the floor. Jess trailed after him as he made his way to the door.

"Happy birthday, Jess!" Luke said in lieu of goodbye, ruffling the child's hair as he prepared to leave.

"Thank you," the boy said again, clutching his present in his little arms.

"It was good of you to come," Liz interjected, giving her brother a hug and a bright, fake smile as he headed out. She closed the door carefully and then turned on her son. The smile was gone and her voice was cold, harsh, and low when she spoke. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she spat.

The childish gleam that had taken up residence in Jess's eye when he was with Luke vanished immediately, and he suddenly looked like a very old little boy. He didn't understand her accusation, so he didn't respond.

"Don't you pull that silent bullshit!" she ordered, pacing back and forth in front of him. "You can talk! Were you trying to make me look like an idiot? Like a bad mother? That I didn't even know my kid could talk and suddenly he's talking up a storm to a man he barely knows? Do you know how stupid that makes me look? You did it on purpose. You wanted to make me look bad, didn't you?"

The little boy shrank under the power of his mother's glare. He shook his head quickly. This only enraged his mother, who strode over and yanked the book from his hands. She threw it across the room and it landed outside their bedroom doors.

"I asked you a question. You can talk. Answer it!" Liz's voice was dangerous as she continued, "did you do it on purpose?"

"No," a scared Jess denied meekly. "I-i-it was o-on mistake! I'm sorry!"

" _By_ mistake, you moron," Liz ridiculed.

"B-by mistake," the boy repeated in a quiet voice, looking up at his mother towering above him with terrified eyes. The eyes that looked back at him were full of malice.

"Of course it was a 'mistake,'" she hissed, "your whole existence is a mistake!" Liz shook her head and added, "Just get out of my sight. Now!"

Jess hurried to do as he was told. He risked grabbing his book before going into his room and closing the door. He lay on his bed and clutched it protectively in his arms as he allowed tears to soak his pillow, making sure to make no noise. When his tears finally dried, Jess opened the book again and got lost in its pages. He imagined himself in Block City. He was the prince in the story, surrounded by ships and palaces of his own creation, accepting gifts from kind visiting kings. The boy fell asleep with these images in his mind, and in his dreams the kings all wore flannel.

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 **A/N: I decided to post this a bit earlier than I thought I would, because it was done and the Prologue was so short. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted. It depends on when I'm able to finish up my edits and how nervous I am about posting it.**

 **I'd love to know what you all think of this chapter, so please send me a review or a PM! They help with the nerves, they make me a better writer, and they inspire me.** **Even if all you say is "I'm still reading," it will make my day and make me want to write more!**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Luke sighting number two! This will be the last chapter in which he physically appears, though, until the final chapter.**

 **Thanks to everyone who has followed/faved or reviewed!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore girls and the title of this chapter is borrowed from _Hamilton_. **

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Chapter 2: For Your Love

Jess's mommy was cleaning again. That usually meant one of two things: they were getting a visit from his uncle Luke, or from the social workers. Either way, Jess was nervous. The social workers could take him away from his mommy and bad things could happen to him, and he hadn't seen his uncle Luke in years. He barely remembered the last time Luke actually visited them. He thought it might have been his birthday, because Luke gave him a book, but that's about all he remembered. The rest was already lost to time. The only other thing he remembered was that Luke had actually seemed to like him. He couldn't remember what he'd done to make Luke like him, though, and now he worried that he'd do something wrong and Luke wouldn't like him anymore. The thought made him jittery. He drummed his fingers against his leg and bounced on the balls of his feet, filled with energy that he didn't know what to do with.

"Mommy, can I help?" Jess asked. She paused her hurried preparations to look at him. There was a calculating, evaluative look in her eye as she gazed at him, measuring and judgmental. Jess looked back at her with an earnest expression on his face.

Eventually, Liz nodded, and Jess grinned. He performed his first task, dusting off the kitchen table, perfectly. His mommy saw and actually smiled at him! It was a small, distracted smile, but it was a smile and it made his heart race.

"Now go over and clear off those bottles from the coffee table, recycle them, and dust off that table like you did in the kitchen," Liz instructed. Jess rushed off to do as he was told. He wanted to get the job done quickly, hoping to please his mother and get another smile, so he picked up as many bottles as would fit in his small arms. He made it all the way to the kitchen, steps away from the recycling, before the first bottle started to fall. Instinct made him reach out for it, which only caused the rest of the bottles to go crashing to the floor. Most of them broke.

"Jess!" Liz yelled, "What the-" She cut herself off as Jess bent to pick up the broken glass with his bare hands. She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the mess. "Don't do that!" she shouted, and Jess stilled. There was no drumming of fingers or bouncing. The nervous energy he'd been feeling earlier had evaporated, replaced by another kind of nerves: the kind that made you freeze in place, hoping whatever was making you nervous wouldn't see you. He stared at the floor and barely breathed. He'd messed up. Big time. He was just glad she hadn't been drinking any of the stuff in those bottles today. The bottles made her meaner.

"I'm sorry," Jess managed to stutter, "it was by mistake!" Jess could tell Liz was angry by the way she continued to grip his arm, but after a few moments she seemed to regain control of herself. She let out a rough sigh and released his arm.

"Just… go to your room, Jess. I'll clean up your mess. You just stay out of my way until your uncle gets here. Got it?" Jess nodded and scampered off to his room. He was relieved he hadn't gotten in more trouble, but he also felt sick over the knowledge that his mommy was working hard to clean their apartment (for his uncle, apparently), and he'd just made her job harder. He was trying to help, but all that really mattered was that he'd made things worse. He always seemed to make things worse.

# # # # #

Jess was still in his room sometime later when he heard the door open. He could hear voices, but not what was being said. He stayed where he was, figuring it was safer to wait until being called. He held a book open on his lap, but he didn't need his uncle to read it to him anymore. Over the course of the last two years, he had somehow managed to learn how to read it by himself, picking up a habit of getting lost in the words in addition to the pictures. He'd acquired a few more precious books in the years since his uncle had last visited. The nice lady who used to live down the hall had noticed Jess always walking around with his book, and when she and her son were moving she'd knocked on their door and given him a number of books her son had outgrown and didn't want to bring with him to their new place.

Jess started a little when his door opened and his mother came in. "Jess!" she said, tone sharp. "Your uncle's here. I've been calling you!"

"Sorry!" Jess apologized, setting the book aside. "I didn't hear you."

"I was right outside your door!"

"I was reading," Jess explained. Liz rolled her eyes.

"You were looking at the pictures. That's not reading. Now get out here!" Jess didn't bother to correct her. He just did as he was told. They walked out towards the kitchen together, and Jess watched the anger and annoyance on his mommy's face fade into a look of happiness and excitement.

"Here he is, Luke!" she said to her brother before turning to her son with a kind look. "You remember your uncle Luke, right, baby?" Jess smiled a little at the rare endearment and nodded.

"Hey, kid," Luke greeted, continuing after a few seconds of silence. "You've, uh, gotten bigger." Jess looked down at himself, then back up at his uncle and nodded again. Luke struggled with the concept of making small talk with a 5-year-old, but Liz bailed him out.

"Jess can be kind of shy," she explained, placing a hand on top of her son's head. Jess subconsciously leaned into the touch. A part of him knew it was just for Luke's benefit, but the rest of him denied that hurtful truth.

"You guys hungry?" Luke asked. "I could make you something." Liz rolled her eyes.

"It's my apartment, Luke!"

"So? Last time I checked, you couldn't cook!" There was a challenge in his voice, but Jess could tell it wasn't truly hostile.

"I'm hungry!" the little boy piped up. Both adults looked at him in surprise, but the child was starving. He'd missed lunch after being sent to his room. Luke grinned at him and then turned to Liz.

"Two to one," he told her, heading for the kitchen, "guess that settles it!" He missed the brief look of betrayal that Liz shot towards Jess. Jess suddenly felt ashamed. Hungry or not, he never should have taken Luke's side against his mommy.

"I love you, Mommy," Jess said, trying to placate her. Those words had never really worked in the past, but he tried them anyway. Liz looked at her brother's back, knowing he was still within earshot.

"I love you, too, baby," she answered. Jess's face lit up. Those five little words felt like forgiveness for his betrayal. They felt like redemption. They felt like absolution for all he'd ever done wrong, and he'd done so much wrong. They felt, too, like hope. Jess had told his mother he loved her on many occasions in his short life, but she usually ignored the words and turned away from him. Every once in a while the words would provoke a small softening in her eyes, but even on those few occasions, she had never said them back. Jess hadn't expected her to say them back on this occasion, either. The fact that she had done so left him feeling incredibly light. As the evening wore on, Jess would find every reason he could to tell his mother he loved her. The joy of hearing her say it back never diminished.

# # # # #

"I can't wait for you to meet him!" Liz gushed at Luke as the trio finished their meal. "He's amazing! I'm telling you, Luke, he might be the one!"

"Uh huh," Luke responded with poorly hidden skepticism, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm serious, Luke! Wait 'til you meet him. He's smart, he's funny, he's sexy as hell…"

"Ah, jeez."

"Oh, grow up! John's such a good man, Luke! You'll like him. He's not like the others."

"I'm sure he's not," Luke said, still doubtful.

"He even likes Jess," Liz added as an afterthought. "He's so sweet with him!" Jess had been listening to the conversation impassively while munching on the last of his meal, secretly siding with Luke the whole time, but at the mention of his own name Jess dropped his gaze. Jess looked down at his right forearm. He was wearing long sleeves so that no one else would see, but he was suddenly very aware of what he was hiding beneath them. John wasn't so sweet with him when Liz wasn't around. He'd been hiding the large, ugly, dark bruise for days. John had made Jess promise not to tell. Not even Liz. He'd threatened to hurt him even worse if he said anything. Jess set his fork down. He wasn't hungry anymore.

"You like him, right, baby?" Liz asked, turning to Jess and raising her eyebrows. Jess glanced between his mommy and his uncle before answering, but he knew his line well enough. His mommy hadn't exactly told him what to say, but he knew disagreeing with her wasn't an option. She wasn't asking because she wanted to know the answer. She was asking because she wanted Jess to back her up.

"He's nice," Jess lied.

"You see, Luke," Liz declared triumphantly, "he's great! Jess likes him, and I love him!"

Luke studied Jess for a moment. "You really like him?" he asked the boy, somehow trusting the judgment of the 5-year-old he hadn't seen in two years over the judgment of his sister. Jess pulled his arms under the table and nodded. He could feel Liz's eyes on him and knew the nod wasn't enough.

"He plays hide and seek with me," Jess told Luke, _and makes sure I really don't want to be found._ Jess may have been only five, but he knew perfectly well that some things were better off left unsaid. Luke didn't need to know that Jess hid from John because John got angry and Jess got scared, not because he was playing a game and having fun. Luke's eyes softened. Jess's stomach twisted. He'd lied to his uncle, and his uncle had believed the lie. Jess wasn't sure why this lie felt so horrible. Not when he'd told so many different lies, to so many different people, in the past. He lied to John all the time, and he never felt bad about that. He felt concerned about getting caught in a lie with John, sure, but he didn't feel bad about the lies themselves. He lied to the social worker when she came to visit and asked him questions. She'd believed his lies, too. He lied to his mom sometimes, too, although he did usually feel guilty about that. Still, for some reason Jess couldn't identify, lying to Luke felt worse. It made his mom smile at him, though, and that almost made it worth it.

"That sounds like a lot of fun," Luke told Jess. The boy simply nodded again, not feeling up to another vocalized lie. This time, however, it seemed to be enough for both of the adults in the room.

"I _told_ you," Liz said to Luke, rolling her eyes. "He's amazing!"

"All right, all right," Luke conceded, reaching out to pick up their empty plates and bring them over to the sink. "If he's as great as you two seem to think he is, then I'm sure I'll like him."

"You will!" Liz insisted. She kept talking, but Jess had stopped listening. Neither of the adults was paying him any attention, and he took the opportunity to slip off his seat and make his way over to his room. He knew he might get in trouble for disappearing entirely, so he just picked up his abandoned book and returned to the living room. He read it over and over again, imagining himself into a world without John. A world where he didn't have to lie. A world where hide and seek was just for fun. He tried his best to forget the world he really lived in.

"Jess!" Liz's sharp tone broke through Jess's concentration, and he looked up to find that she was standing in the living room. "Come say goodbye to your uncle," she ordered, taking his hand and pulling him back towards the kitchen. His uncle knelt down and gave him a hug.

"It was great to see you, Jess! Be a good boy for your mommy, ok?" Jess nodded. "Bye, Jess."

"Bye, Luke," Jess answered quietly. He still felt guilty. His uncle left, and then it was just him and his mommy again. Liz sighed as the door closed and then started clearing off the few glasses Luke hadn't put in the sink.

"Can I help?" Jess asked. He wanted to make up for his mistakes.

"No. Just go back to your room, Jess." Jess did as he was told, but just before he reached his room he turned back.

"I love you, Mommy," he told her.

"I heard you the first thirty times," Liz snapped. "I told you to go to your room. I'm too tired to deal with you right now." Jess hunched his shoulders and slipped into his room without further comment. He shouldn't have said it. It was his own fault, really. If he hadn't pushed it, he never would have known she'd only been saying it back because of Luke. If he hadn't been so greedy, if he hadn't needed to hear it again, then he might have still been able to believe that she truly meant it.

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 **A/N: Future chapters will be longer than this one. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up within the next week, but no promises. I'd love to hear what you're all thinking about the story/what you think about the chapter (good, bad, random, anything...), so I'd appreciate it if you took the time to leave a review or shoot me a PM!**

 **To the person who left a review as a guest: Thank you _so_ much! I agree that it was kind of strange how they tried to change Liz's character and it never really fit with my early season impressions of her. I really appreciate your feedback, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who faved, followed, and especially reviewed. Thanks as well to christinegrrl for beta'ing this story. I forgot to thank her for the last chapter, but she beta'd that one as well!**

 **Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Gilmore girls and the title, once again, comes from _Hamilton_.**

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Chapter 3: The Sinners and the Saints

Jess didn't find it easy to make friends. For one thing, he didn't have much practice at it. He hadn't spent a lot of time around kids his own age growing up, and few of the adults he'd spent time with had ever taken a genuine interest in him. Most of the time, he didn't mind that so much. Better to be ignored than hurt or pitied. He did, however, sometimes wonder what it would be like to have someone he could really talk to. Someone he would want to talk to.

Talking was the other main reason Jess had a hard time making friends: he didn't like to do it. Silence had served him well as a shield. Drawing attention to himself rarely ended well. He talked to the teacher because she was nice and he had to, but he made little effort to talk to the other kids. They, for the most part, had concluded he was weird and stopped trying to talk to him. The lone exception was a little girl named Julie.

Julie talked to everyone, and she made a special point to talk to the kids no one else talked to. Everyone, teachers and students alike, seemed to love her. Jess was another exception, because at first he just thought she was annoying. It seemed like she was always chattering at him when he was trying to read during recess, asking him questions with awkward answers he wasn't willing to give ("What's your mom like?" _Drunk,_ or "what's your dad do?" _Leave._ ). She'd even talk to him in class sometimes when they weren't supposed to be talking. He thought he saw their 1st Grade teacher notice her whispering once and pretend not to see. The apparently intentional oversight made Jess think of the note this same teacher had sent home to his mom about how Jess needed to "work on his socialization skills." It was a big word, but Jess knew it. For someone who rarely talked, he knew a lot of words his peers didn't.

His annoyance with Julie started to fade, however, when she stopped asking awkward questions and landed instead on the one question he felt most comfortable answering: what are you reading? Julie was a smart girl, but she couldn't read anywhere near as well as Jess could. She loved hearing about the books he was reading, loved that she'd finally gotten him to talk, and he found, to his surprise, that he enjoyed telling her about them. Soon, he didn't find her annoying at all and they started talking about far more than just books. Jess learned that he didn't mind listening to her talk at all. She talked about her family, her friends, and her pets. She talked about her dreams and ambitions. She talked about school, which she loved, and her own reading. She talked about everything, and it seemed to come so easily to her.

Julie asked about his life, too, but Jess became skilled at deflecting her attention. He shared a few things, but mostly he talked about books or lied. He painted a rosy picture of Liz when Julie wouldn't let the subject drop, and he conveniently failed to mention any of her boyfriends. It was easier that way – not to mention safer. He didn't know what to say when she asked him what the favorite present he'd ever gotten from his parents was, so he told her he couldn't pick one. He'd made up some story when she'd followed that question up by asking what he'd gotten the previous Christmas. He couldn't tell her that all he got was a literal piece of coal. He couldn't tell her his mother's boyfriend had punished him for it, because if Santa thought he'd been "naughty," then he must have been. Santa sees everything, after all. He wouldn't make a mistake. He couldn't tell her it was the boyfriend who put the coal under the tree in the first place, as either a cruel trick or just an excuse to punish him, and that he hadn't even had the courage to call the guy out on the fact that he knew Santa was a lie. He also couldn't tell her how excited he had been for those few moments, before he opened it, when he foolishly thought he'd actually gotten a real present. He couldn't tell her that his mom may have looked uncomfortable about the whole thing, but she still hadn't said a word in his defense. Even if he'd wanted to, how could he tell any of that to his perfect, naïve friend who still believed in happy families and Santa Claus? How could he tell that to a sweet little girl who still believed that people were fundamentally good? That the _world_ was fundamentally good? He couldn't, so he lied. He made up excuses for why she couldn't visit him at his place, and grew to love the peace and serenity he found at hers when she invited him over.

Julie's was the first birthday party he'd ever been invited to. He'd gotten up the courage to ask his mom for money to buy her a present, but she just laughed, told him she barely had enough money for food let alone enough to waste on presents, and went out to get more beer. So instead Jess utilized a skill one of her boyfriends had taught him and stole Julie a present. He stole her one of his favorite books, although he knew her parents would have to help her with it. He also knew her parents _would_ help her with it. She'd grinned and hugged him for it, and her parents had smiled at him.

His own birthday was only a couple of weeks after Julie's, and the day after her party he approached his own mother with caution. He didn't notice she'd been using until it was too late to take the request back.

"Mommy," he'd asked, "can I have a birthday party?" She stared at him blankly, and he nervously continued, "or… or not even a party, really, just one friend?"

"You want to have a friend over for your birthday?" Liz asked him, her expression unreadable even to her perceptive son. Jess nodded apprehensively. "I thought you didn't have any friends?"

The comment hurt more than he would've liked to admit, but Jess pressed on anyway. "I have one friend, and I thought we could maybe have her over?" Jess asked again. "To celebrate?" he added.

"No," Liz answered simply and definitively, turning to look away from him. Jess dipped his head, knowing he was defeated, knowing he should just shut up and leave her alone, but somehow finding himself unable to give up on the idea he'd set his heart on.

"But—" Jess started, only to have his mother turn, return her cruel attentions to him, and cut him off.

"Why would I want to spend a dime of my hard earned money to celebrate the day you ruined my life?" Liz asked. Jess was too old to cry. He knew that. His mother had taught him that, and her boyfriends had made sure that the lesson stuck. Yet Jess couldn't help the tears that welled up in his eyes at her words. With great effort, he prevented them from falling, but not before his mother saw them.

"Aww," she mocked, "is the little baby Jessie sad? Does he think his mommy was mean to him?" Liz grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into his room, and when she spoke again her voice was hard. "You're going to be seven fucking years old, Jess, stop being such a baby. I'm not going to coddle you and lie to you and tell you I want to celebrate your birthday. Get over it!" With that, she slammed the door and left him alone.

Jess lay on his bed and let a few tears fall onto his pillow. It was his own fault, really. He should've realized the state she was in. She probably would've said no clean and sober, too, but she wouldn't have said the rest of it. He tried to tell himself it was just the drugs talking, that she didn't really mean it, but he never really was able to convince himself of that. On some level, she must really think it. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd said something like that.

A few more tears fell before he wiped them away in frustration. He hadn't meant to ruin her life. He tried to make up for it every day. He tried to be good and helpful. He tried not to bother her or her boyfriends. He tried to stay out of their way. He tried not to ask for too much. Apparently, he just wasn't any good at any of it. He was still ruining her life, and he didn't know how to stop.

# # # # #

Both Jess and Julie had grown increasingly quiet with one another as his birthday drew nearer. It was Julie who finally brought it up while they were sitting on the steps outside their school during recess.

"So, your birthday's tomorrow, right?" Jess just nodded. "What are you doing to celebrate?"

Jess was embarrassed. Ashamed. Angry at his mom for putting him in this position. Angry at himself for not being good enough to make her love him. Angry at Julie for every assumption she'd ever made. For thinking his life was like hers. For assuming he must be doing _something_ to celebrate. For assuming he had parents who wanted to celebrate his birthday. For having parents who actually cared about her. He couldn't tell her the truth.

"I'm having a party," Jess lied smoothly.

"You are?" Julie said, betraying surprise and a little bit of hurt. "With who?"

"Oh, you know," Jess embellished, ignoring the hurt in her eyes. "My mom, some kids from my building, and some friends from kindergarten. My mom's been planning it for awhile."

"Sounds fun," Julie told him. Secretly, she was still hoping for a last minute invitation.

"Yeah," Jess agreed enthusiastically, "it's gonna be awesome!" The hurt look in her eye only became more apparent when no invitation was forthcoming. Jess knew he was upsetting her, knew why she was upset, and a small part of him was starting to feel a little guilty about that. The rest of him, however, just resented her even more for it. She was acting like not being invited to a stupid birthday party was the worst thing that could happen to a kid. Jess knew better. He wished he didn't, but he did.

"Can I come?" Julie asked sheepishly. She knew perfectly well it wasn't polite to invite yourself to things, but she thought maybe Jess just thought she wouldn't want to go. He did that sometimes: assumed people didn't like him as much as they claimed. That was how it had been with her, anyway.

Jess was a little surprised by the direct question, but he didn't really have a choice about how to answer. "No," he said, offering no explanation.

"I thought we were friends?" Julie said, tears sprouting.

Jess had boxed himself in with his lies. He'd either have to come clean about it all, which he couldn't bring himself to do, or he'd have to keep going. "You thought wrong," he answered, not looking at her. It wasn't entirely a lie, Jess thought. He knew everything about her life, but she didn't even know anything about his. What did she really know about him? That he liked books? That he didn't have a dad? That was it. Big deal. Most of the school knew those things. The fact that she didn't tease him about them didn't mean she was his friend. She didn't know about his mom. She didn't know about her boyfriends. She didn't know about the yelling or the bruises or the fear. She didn't know how hard he had to try to be even a decent son, and she didn't know how horribly he failed anyway. She knew he liked to read. She didn't know how badly he sometimes needed to escape into those other worlds. She didn't know he'd had to steal her birthday present. She didn't know his mom regretted having him. She didn't know enough to wonder if his mom would even want to celebrate his birthday. She knew nothing. The person she was friends with was nothing more than a myth. He was as much a fiction as most of his books. He couldn't be that pretend boy anymore.

Julie's tears started flowing in earnest at his response. "Fine," she told him, "you're a jerk, anyway! I don't want to be your friend anymore!"

Julie stormed away across the playground, joining a group of girls who huddled around her and soon began shooting Jess dirty looks. A few of the boys caught wind, and Jess saw one of the boys start towards him. Julie caught the boy by the arm and shook her head. The boy stopped. After a few moments, all of the kids turned and walked away. No one bothered talking to Jess after that except to make fun of him. He told himself he didn't care. He didn't need them. He didn't need her. He was a good liar.

# # # # #

The apartment was silent when Jess returned home from school, and it was silent the next morning, too. All in all, that bode well for the day. At this point, all Jess wanted for his birthday was to be left alone. The phone rang, but Jess let it go to the answering machine.

"Hey, Jess, it's me, Luke. Uh, your uncle Luke. You probably knew that. Anyway, just calling to say happy birthday. Ok, well, guess I've said it… so… bye!"

Jess told himself he only listened to the message again to get rid of the annoying beeping, but in truth it was a nice reminder that someone, even if that someone barely knew him, actually cared about his birthday enough to call.

He spent the first few hours of officially being seven sitting at home reading. He should've been in school, but who would care if he skipped? Around 4pm he made the decision to go out and get himself a present. It was the beginning of a tradition: every year on his birthday, Jess would steal himself a book. He didn't get caught, and he spent most of the rest of the day getting lost in its pages.

Jess's mom didn't come home until very late that night, new boyfriend in tow. Both drunk, at the very least, Jess could instantly tell. He immediately regretted his decision to stay in the living room reading. He tried to make a quick escape to his room, but the new boyfriend blocked his path and grabbed the collar of his shirt, spinning him around to face his mother.

"Apologize," the boyfriend ordered.

"I'm sorry," Jess said hastily, looking up at the man. He let go of Jess's collar and pushed him forward towards his mother.

"Not to me," he said. Jess looked at his mom.

"I'm sorry," he said again. She didn't react immediately, staring at him for a moment before speaking.

"For what?" she asked. _I don't know,_ Jess thought. _I could guess, but I'm not stupid enough to give you more reasons to be mad at me._ Jess remained silent. The new boyfriend took a step forward and stood only inches behind Jess, but he didn't touch him. Jess tensed all over, stared at the floor, and waited.

"Your mother asked you a question," the man hissed. Jess's heart started racing, but still he said nothing. "What are you apologizing for?" the man asked, voice harsh and loud. Jess jumped slightly.

"I don't know," he muttered.

"Take a guess," the man ordered. Jess shook his head.

"I don't know," he said again.

"You think you're perfect?"

"No," Jess answered, his voice soft and low.

"Then guess."

"I don't know," Jess insisted so quietly the others could barely hear him. The man put a threatening hand on the back of Jess's neck and then laughed when he noticed that Jess was shaking.

"You scared of me, little boy?" A flash of anger shot through Jess at the man's mocking tone, and he found the courage to look him in the eye when he responded.

"No," he answered with as much defiance as he could muster. Jess was surprised when the man chuckled and released his neck to ruffle his hair in a manner Jess might've mistaken for affectionate if he didn't know any better. Julie would've thought it was affectionate.

"Liar," he said with a grin. "Don't worry, kid, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want you to apologize to your mother for ruining her life and then asking her to celebrate it." Jess's eyes quickly fell away from the man's as he squirmed uncomfortably. _She told him about that?_ Jess thought, chest tightening. _She was out there complaining about how I ruined her life._ Jess felt a confusing combination of betrayal and shame at the realization. He should have known it wouldn't be over. He was still ruining her life, wasn't he? Why shouldn't she complain? Why should it matter that he hadn't meant to do it?

"Well?" the man asked, amusement still in his voice. Jess hated him for that. He hated him for that, and because it was easier than hating his mom. Jess looked up at her, but he couldn't meet her eyes. He spoke to the wall just to the right of her head instead.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" she asked again. Jess glanced at the ground, blinking rapidly, and then back up at her.

"For ruining your life and then asking for a party," he answered. His mom simply nodded and turned away from him.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" the man asked, ruffling his hair again. Jess moved his head to the side evasively and made for his bedroom, but the man again prevented his escape. He kneeled down and placed a hand on each of Jess's shoulders to prevent him from moving. "The sooner you learn that kids like you don't deserve things like birthday parties, the better off you'll be. You need to learn to manage your expectations, kid."

The man stood, pushing Jess towards his room. "Now go to bed. Your mother and I have a little partying of our own to do, and you're not invited."

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 **A/N: I'm not sure when I'm going to post the next chapter. To be honest, it's pretty close to done, but I'm really nervous about it so I might be a little skittish about actually posting it and it might take a little while. As always, reviews are very much appreciated! I'll respond to them all, either in PMs (for those with accounts) or here at the end of chapters for those who don't have accounts. If you'd rather I not respond for any reason, just let me know. I won't be offended.**

 **Response to reviews: Nancy! I'm so glad you found this story! I loved reading your reviews on my last story, and I was so excited to see your name when I got your first review for this one. I'm glad you seem to be enjoying it, and that you think I captured Liz well. I agree that Luke doesn't know what to look for and doesn't want to think so ill of his little sister. AJ Granger: thanks for the feedback (and if you're the same AJ Granger who reviewed "Guilt," it's great to hear from you again)! I'm trying to show the life that Jess might've had to make him the young man we saw on the show and in my other story, so I'm glad you can see the connection!**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: As always, thanks to everyone who followed, faved, or reviewed. Thanks in particular to my beta, christinegrrl, for all of her feedback and for encouraging me to post.**

 **Warnings: there's nothing in this chapter that isn't technically covered by the story warnings (particularly the "multiple kinds" of child abuse), but this might be a particularly difficult chapter to read for some people. If you'd like a more specific warning, please PM me.**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own Gilmore girls and the title is paraphrased from _Hamilton_ lyrics.**

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Chapter 4: Mommy Doesn't Need to Know

If Jess had had any choice in the matter, he wouldn't have found himself sneaking back into his apartment at one-o'clock in the morning. If he'd had his way, he wouldn't be returning to the apartment at all. It had been almost two months since Jess had slept in his own bed and four weeks since he'd set foot in the apartment for anything. It had been two months since he decided that he was willing to risk what might happen to a 9-year-old alone on the streets of New York City in order to avoid what he knew would happen to him if he stayed "home."

Of course, Jess hadn't really been "on the streets" for very long. He'd found a hideaway before he decided to leave home. He'd taken to spending long hours in a branch of the New York Public Library. He'd go there straight after school, if not before, and stay until closing. He'd lose himself in the books and try to forget what inevitably awaited him when he had to leave. He'd discovered that the last place the staff checked for lingering patrons was the bathroom, and so at the end of the day he would duck in there to read. One night, Jess had the good fortune to look up and notice that one of the panels on the ceiling above his stall was ajar. He realized for the first time that the panel could be moved.

Jess was small, light, and agile, and he had no trouble climbing atop the thin walls of the stall and popping the panel up into the ceiling. He pulled himself up through the opening and, to his surprise, the remaining panels supported his weight. He smiled as he dropped back down from the ceiling onto the top of the stall and returned the panel to its proper place, and as he made his way home he was already making plans for what he could do with this newfound information. The next afternoon he returned with a blanket in his backpack along with a flashlight and enough food to last him through the night and part of the following day. He made his way into the ceiling, replaced the panel, and held his breath when he heard the staff open the door to the bathroom below him to look for anyone still in the building. They must not have noticed anything amiss, because they left after only a few moments. Jess had sighed in relief and smiled at having stolen himself a night of peace.

When Jess returned to the apartment after his night at the library, it was clear that Liz hadn't even noticed he was gone. Her boyfriend, Greg, certainly had, and he hadn't been happy about it. Jess avoided punishment for his unexcused absence from the apartment, however, because Liz was there and Greg never hurt Jess in front of her. Jess supposed that was just to protect his carefully cultivated image as the perfect, loving pseudo-stepfather, the kind of guy few could ever bring themselves to see fault in even when they should, because Greg knew perfectly well that Liz would choose him over Jess in a heartbeat. Greg hadn't hit him when he walked back into the apartment, but the look in the man's eye told Jess he should be anywhere other than that apartment that night, and so Jess returned to the library. He did the same thing the next evening, and the one after that, and the one after that, each time ferreting away a few more supplies until he had a little nest up there.

His visits home became more and more sparse, and he did his best to avoid returning when Greg was likely to be home. It was four weeks before he came back to find out that Greg had taken a day off and that Liz was passed out on the couch. The punishment for his disappearing act was severe, but didn't leave all that many bruises. At least not anywhere anyone would see them.

Jess shook his head as he finished quietly climbing through his window, trying to clear it of the memory. This was the first time he'd come home since that day, and it would do him no good to think about what had happened the last time he was here. He'd survived it. That's what really matters, he told himself. He may have thought otherwise from time to time over the past nine months, but the truth was that he wanted to live. At least long enough to actually start living instead of just surviving. That had to happen eventually, right?

Jess closed his window against the bitter air outside, but he didn't venture any further inside. Unfortunately, shaking one's head and simply wanting to be rid of bad memories very rarely worked. He was terrified that his instinct for survival was leading him astray. He wished his mind would stop showing him images of what Greg would do to him if he realized he was back. His plan was to be gone before Greg or Liz realized he was there at all, but what if that plan went wrong? He stood rooted to the spot just inside his window, listening for any signs of life in the apartment. He heard nothing, but that did very little to assuage his fears. _He won't kill you,_ Jess told himself. _Whatever else he does, he won't kill you. Not just for running away. For telling, absolutely, but not for running away._

The frigid air still making its way through his drafty window reminded him why he couldn't go back outside. He'd been on the street – the real street – for about a week. That was his fault. He'd been stupid and gotten himself caught coming down from the ceiling at the library. By the security guard, no less. The guy had wanted to call the cops on him. The librarian, who knew and liked the boy who had made his way steadily through the children's section long ago and then made his way into the adult section, seemed to want to call the cops for him. He swore up and down that he'd done it on a dare, and he was very sorry, and it would never happen again. They'd banned him for life, but they hadn't called the cops. He wished, desperately, that he could go back. Safe, reasonably warm, and surrounded by books? It was the closest thing to paradise Jess had ever seen.

With the possibility of the library off the table, Jess had been left with few options. The shelters weren't safe, and him showing up alone would've raised way too many questions. His home for the last week had been the park, which was barely any safer than the shelters (and he had more bruises and fewer possessions to prove it). The cold front moving in would take that option off the table for at least the next two nights.

Jess had thought, daydreamed, really, about going to Julie's place. He hadn't spoken to her since the birthday debacle. He'd been sorry, later, but he didn't know how to say it. She hated him. Heck, her parents probably even hated him. He knew it wouldn't matter. He knew her, and she would forgive him. If he explained, if he told her the whole truth, she would forgive him. He played the conversation through in his mind a dozen times before letting the idea go. He couldn't tell her the truth. Not about Liz, and definitely not about Greg. Even if he could manage to tell her the truth, there was a reason his daydreams always stopped at her forgiveness. What happened next would be a nightmare. There would be the concerned parents. The call to the police. The visit from the social worker. The foster family that might be just as bad as the home he'd be escaping. There might even be a trial, if he told the truth, but why should twelve strangers believe _him_ instead of the guy with the perfect image? Greg would get off, and he'd come after him. He'd make him suffer enough that death seemed like a mercy, and then he'd kill him. So, no, he couldn't go to Julie. That left him no place to go except home.

After a few minutes of hyperventilating over by the window, Jess finally managed to pluck up the courage to take off his shoes and make his way silently over to his bed. It took a long time for Jess to calm down enough to fall asleep, but eventually he drifted off.

Jess awoke to the sound of a hand landing heavily on his doorknob, and the boy flinched slightly in his bed at the noise. He was fully alert by the time the doorknob turned, but he feigned sleep. He'd never be able to make it out of the window in time to escape if it was Greg, and he'd be punished for the attempt. Feigning sleep wouldn't help with Greg, either, but it might if the intruder was Liz. Usually, if she thought he was sleeping, Liz would just leave.

As soon as she stepped into the room, Jess knew it was Liz. That was a relief, but he didn't want to deal with her, either. He did his best to keep his breathing even as his mother made her way into the room and stood at the foot of his bed. _Please just make her leave,_ Jess pled silently. The plea sounded pitiful in his mind, but he didn't care. He was pretty sure no one was actually listening. No one who liked him enough to intervene, anyway. His prayers never seemed to be answered, and tonight was no exception. Jess had barely enough time to register the feeling of a hand closing around his ankle before he felt himself being jerked off the bed and onto the floor. He hit the ground with a thud and small, surprised grunt, but he didn't bother to object. He shot to his feet, but his mother still towered over him.

Mother and son glared at one another in the semi-darkness. The light in his room was off, but they were in "the city that never sleeps," and there was enough light coming in through the window to see fairly clearly. There was hatred in both of their eyes.

"What're you doing here?" Liz asked.

"I live here," Jess answered cautiously.

"Ha, yeah, right!" Liz slurred, her entire body swaying with the ferocity behind the words. "Hasn't seemed like it. What happened? Decide you're not too good for us after all?" Jess glanced away and didn't answer.

"I asked you a question," Liz prodded. Still, Jess remained silent. "Answer me!" Jess shrank slightly at the volume of her voice, but he didn't back down.

"You're going to wake Greg up," Jess warned. The fury that instantly erupted in Liz's eyes was enough to inform him that a new landmine had been planted in the weeks he'd been away. Jess shut his mouth, determined to stay quiet until he figured out the exact nature of the mine and how he'd triggered it, and waited for the explosion. Liz's voice was quiet when she continued, but there was ice in it.

"No, Jess, I won't. Wanna know why?" Liz asked, advancing slowly towards Jess. She didn't wait for an answer. "He's gone, and all because of you. _Are you happy now?_ " Jess put everything he had into hiding the immense sense of relief that was flooding through him. As far as he was concerned, the Big Bad Wolf was gone. He was free. Try as he might, Jess couldn't prevent a tiny smile from forming on his lips. That smile evaporated when his mother's hand made forceful contact with it.

"You are!" Liz accused. "You're actually happy! Fuck you, Jess!" The waterworks began with abandon, but Jess couldn't find it in himself to feel for her. He knew that made him a terrible son, but he just couldn't do it. "He was a good man. He was good to me. He was everything to me. Everything I ever wanted. He was so good to me, Jess! He took care of me. He treated me like a fucking queen! He was even good to you!" Jess scoffed and Liz slapped him again. His gaze fell to the ground momentarily, face reddening more from embarrassment than from the slap itself, but soon enough he squared his jaw and returned his mother's glare.

" _Do not_ start, Jess," Liz warned. Her tone was dangerous. "It was your fucking lies that ran him off!"

"They weren't lies," Jess insisted quietly.

"Bullshit! He would _never_ … he… you just wanted me to break up with him. You never even gave him a chance. You hated him from the very beginning!"

Jess shook his head slightly. It wasn't true. He hadn't hated him from the beginning. He'd hated him at the beginning, but that was primarily out of principle. Over time, Jess was ashamed to admit, Greg had won his wholehearted approval. If he treated Liz like a queen, then in those first few months he treated Jess like a prince. No, actually, he treated Jess like a _son_ he adored. He listened to him. He praised him. He showered him with books. He was kind to him. He became increasingly affectionate and caring, but gradually enough to seem genuine and avoid raising Jess's hackles. No matter how much Jess tried to provoke him, Greg never raised a hand to the boy. Eventually, Jess stopped trying to provoke him altogether and simply enjoyed his company. He grew confident in the knowledge that Greg would never hurt him. When that trust was shattered, Jess shattered, too.

Jess supposed Greg had been nice to him to gain his trust. To make Jess care about him. To make Jess think Greg cared about him. To make him less likely to tell. It hadn't worked. It also hadn't mattered that it hadn't worked and he'd told anyway. Liz had slapped him then, too. Jess tried not to think about how badly that conversation had gone, but he couldn't help it.

 _"Mom," Jess asked, hesitating at the door to her room. She was hungover, which wasn't ideal (Jess wondered if Greg had intended for her to pass out when he kept handing her those drinks the night before), but she hadn't been drinking or using yet. He knew he'd lose his nerve if he tried to wait for one of the rare days when she wasn't high, drunk, or hungover._

 _"What is it, Jess?" Liz said, already impatient, but not altogether unkind._

 _"Can… can I talk to you?" His hands were shaking as he nervously wrung them together, an uncharacteristically overt sign of nerves that alone should have clued his mom in to the fact that something was going on with her son, but she wasn't paying enough attention to notice._

 _"Make it quick, Jess, I have a headache," Liz didn't bother to open her eyes, or perhaps it was just too painful to do so._

 _"Right, um," Jess's mouth went dry and he fought the overwhelming urge to flee. "The thing is…" Jeez, Mariano, Jess thought, it's now or never, spit it out._

 _"Gregsnuckintomyroomandtouchedmelastnight." Jess had "spit it out" in one breath, and now that he'd said it he couldn't breathe at all. Liz finally looked up at him, eyes focused. She stood up from her bed and walked towards him._

 _"Greg did what?" she asked, tone neutral. Jess took a shaky breath and started over, staring intently at the chipped nail polish on Liz's toes._

 _"He snuck into my room when you were sleeping and—" Jess didn't get a chance to finish the accusation again. The blow was unexpected and made his ear ring._

 _"Liar!" Jess flinched at the word as if she had struck him again. It would have hurt less had she done so. One word and his hope was gone. "Greg would never hurt a kid. That man is practically a saint. You are nothing but a liar with a filthy mind!" Liz turned away from her little boy and paced the room._

 _"Mom, please," Jess begged, "you have to believe me! You have to! You have to stop him, please! Please!" In his desperation, Jess sounded far younger than he had in years._

 _"I really can't handle your whining right now," Liz stated, hand going to her temple, "or your lies."_

 _"They're not—" The look Liz shot him shut him up momentarily, cutting off his denial. "Please," he said instead, "you're my_ mom _."_

 _"Don't remind me," Liz muttered. The words cut more than they should have. It's not like he didn't know she'd never wanted to be his mother. It was just that in that moment, he really needed her to be._

 _"You're supposed to protect me!" Jess didn't know what made him say it. He wasn't that naïve. He wasn't that stupid. Liz stalked back towards him again and Jess backed away until he hit the wall, hands flying up protectively on instinct, but his mother made no effort to hit him. Instead, she grabbed his outstretched wrists and shook him lightly._

 _"There is_ nothing _to protect you from," Liz said harshly. " I would never let that happen. If someone hurt you like that, I'd stop them, but Greg didn't do anything. I don't know what your problem is, but I won't put up with you telling lies about him! He's a good man, and you will not tell stories about him. Not to me, not to anyone else. Understand?" Jess stared up at her silently. She shook him again, harder this time._

 _"I said do you understand?" she shouted._

 _"Yes," Jess choked out. The hands on his wrists weren't all that tight, but somehow they still felt like vises. She wasn't all that close to him, but still her proximity made him feel like he was suffocating. He felt cornered. Trapped. At her mercy. He wanted to scream at her, wanted to tell her to get her hands off of him, but there was no air. He had barely managed to get one word out._

 _"Good," Liz spat, pushing his wrists away from her and letting them go. She grabbed his shirt instead, dragging him out of her bedroom and depositing him in his own. "Stay here." She turned and headed towards the door._

 _"Mom…" Jess said quietly. There was a plea in his voice, which she ignored._

 _"Don't call me that," Liz ordered, and Jess vowed silently, and bitterly, that it would be the last time he ever did. He felt rage boiling up inside him, and because he couldn't (or wouldn't) hurt the people who deserved it, he waged war on his room instead. He ran out of energy before he ran out of anger._

The father-figure-of-the-year act had been dropped almost completely when a drunken Liz told Greg all about the "lies" Jess was telling. The guy kept it up in front of Liz, and the neighbors, and even the occasional teacher, but when they were alone it was different. Greg had apparently decided that if misguided love wouldn't keep him quiet, then fear and shame would have to do the trick. It worked.

"I didn't hate him until he started molesting me and beating me to make sure I kept my mouth shut about it," Jess corrected. The words were quiet, but fierce.

"You are a fucking liar!" Liz screamed at him. There was a warning as subtle as a tornado siren in her eyes, but Jess didn't heed it.

"No, I'm not."

"You and your lies ran him off! He loved me! He was going to marry me!" Jess laughed, and Liz's eyes grew colder still.

"You are such a naïve idiot!" Jess told her, not caring about the consequences he knew would follow. "He didn't love you. He didn't care about you. He didn't want you."

"Shut up!"

"The only reason he was with you was to get access to me. He never loved you. He was using you!"

"Shut up!"

"You think it's a coincidence he took off as soon as he realized I wasn't going to be around? I was the only one in this apartment he actually wanted to—"

"SHUT UP!" Once again, Liz's palm came down hard across Jess's face. "SHUT UP!" Again, her hand came down. She followed it up with a solid shove that sent him careening backwards onto the bed. The bed creaked as he landed on it, and his heart rate skyrocketed as he looked up at his mother looming above him. _It's just Liz_ , he reminded himself. _Liz, not Greg_. It didn't help. He shot away from the bed like it was the lava in that stupid kids' game that he and Julie played a couple of times. His heart was hammering so loudly in his chest that he would have bet anything that Liz could hear it.

"SHUT UP!" Liz shouted again, despite the fact that Jess had made no attempt to speak since the first slap. "HE LOVED ME! HE NEVER LAID A HAND ON YOU! LIAR!" Jess inched further away from her towards the window, but she caught on to his intended escape route.

"Oh, no you don't, you fucking liar!" she said, seizing him by the shirt and flinging him back towards the center of the room. He started backing away from her again as soon as she let him go, this time in the opposite direction towards his door. She followed him, not allowing him to put much distance between them. His mouth began to dry out, and he started glancing nervously around the room. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for. "You think you can mouth off to me and then just skip out again?"

Liz followed her words with another forceful shove, this one sending him crashing into the door. He winced as the doorknob bit painfully into his back. _That was an accident_ , he told himself. _She wasn't thinking about the knob. She didn't mean it._ He'd barely had time to think up his excuses before Liz had closed the space between them created by the shove. Jess's breathing became increasingly rapid as her proximity increased. He pulled away from her as much as possible, trying to ignore the still painful jabbing of the doorknob. She was too close, and he couldn't back up any further. It was a claustrophobic feeling that made him intensely uncomfortable. He tried to shift to the side, but Liz shot out a hand to block him. The crack of her hand hitting the door made him jump slightly. He looked at the floor out of habit, begging his heart to slow down. Liz reached out with her free hand to take hold of his chin and force him to look at her.

"Admit you were lying," Liz hissed at him.

"Fuck you!" Jess said angrily, voice deceptively strong in spite of his pounding heart and stubbornly waterless mouth. Liz pulled back, and when she raised her hand yet again Jess saw with resigned dread that she had done so, for the first time in his life, with a closed fist. The blow sent him sprawling to the floor. He swallowed to get rid of the metallic taste in his mouth as she dragged him back to his feet.

"Admit you were lying!" Liz demanded again, shaking him for good measure.

"Which part upset you more," Jess gritted out in a pained voiced, "the idea that he _messed_ with your son, or the idea that the latest 'love of your life' didn't actually love you?" Liz let out a humorless laugh.

"You fucking bastard…" Liz said, slamming Jess so hard into the wall that she knocked what little breath he had left out of him. The pain blossoming across his back frightened him far less than the fact that he couldn't seem to get his breath back. He'd been hyperventilating before, but now he couldn't breathe at all. Liz pulled him away from the wall so that she could push him back into it. "Admit it!" she ordered. Jess opened his mouth, unsure what he was going to say, but nothing came out. Not that he would have been able to say anything, anyway, without first getting a little freaking air into his lungs!

Liz punched the wall next to him, and Jess flinched away. _This is Liz. This is Liz. She's never hurt you too badly. You'll be fine. It's just Liz, calm down,_ Jess told himself. _Yeah?_ A small, unhelpful voice reminded him. _She'd never punched you before today, either…_ The thought terrified him. All of a sudden the limits were gone. She'd never taken it this far before, which meant he had no idea how far she'd be willing to take it now. It was an unknown, and unknowns scared the crap out of him. He'd finally managed to get a little bit of oxygen, but he wasn't likely to get any more than that if he couldn't get himself to relax. More than anything, he needed her to back up. He needed more than a few inches between them. He needed to be able to breathe.

"Please," he begged, abandoning his bravado, "please back up a little." If he'd been thinking more clearly, he would have known in advance that the request was a mistake. He'd revealed a weakness she could use against him.

"Back up, huh?" Liz mocked, leaning forward slightly. Jess drew back as much as possible, closed his eyes, and tried to swallow. He was holding his breath without meaning to. He was acutely and uncomfortably aware of every point of contact between them. There weren't many, and they were all in completely innocent locations, but it didn't matter. It was enough. He broke out in a sweat despite the chilly air in the room. He started feeling nauseous, too, and all he wanted in the world was to be alone. The only rational thought his mind seemed capable of holding onto was that he needed to do whatever it took to make her leave him alone. He didn't want to say it. The mere thought of saying it made him feel even more nauseous, but it was the only thing he could think of that might make her let him be.

"I lied!" Jess said, voice hoarse and rushed. "Please, Liz, please. I lied, ok? I lied!" Liz backed off a fraction of an inch.

"About which part?" she asked.

"All of it," Jess lied. _None of it,_ Jess thought. Liz stared at him for a few seconds. "All of it!" Jess repeated desperately, and she took a few steps back.

"I _knew_ it," she told him with a look full of disdain. "I hear you tell any of those lies again, and you'd better hope you can find somewhere else to sleep and someone else to feed you, because you're never stepping foot under my roof again. You understand me? You think you can survive for long alone at 9-years-old? You go ahead and try, but don't come crawling back to me when you're about to freeze or starve to death. In fact, I don't even want to hear his name coming out of your mouth. Understand?"

"Yes," Jess whispered.

"You gonna keep your mouth shut?"

"Yes," Jess repeated just as quietly, and Liz left him alone to continue panicking in peace without a backward glance. Jess sank to the floor, hugging his knees and rocking slightly back and forth. It took him what seemed like a long time to catch some semblance of a breath. When he was finally breathing a little bit easier, he stood and made his way over to the window. He pulled himself back out onto the fire escape and sat down with his back to the wall. The air bit at his skin almost painfully, but the cold felt good. He would have preferred a steaming hot shower, but venturing further into the apartment seemed like a spectacularly bad idea. Extreme cold was almost as good. Not quite as cleansing, but it gave him a distraction. Some sort of sensation to focus on that was strong enough to overcome the ghost sensations still plaguing him. The same frigid air that had driven him inside in the first place, that had been such a curse, was suddenly a blessing. The longer he stayed out there the harder it was for his brain to focus on anything other than the cold.

 _She didn't know what she was doing,_ Jess told himself. The violence was his own doing. He should have known better than to say those things to her, he knew how she would react to that, but he couldn't help it. He wanted her to know. He wanted her to look at the truth for once. And maybe, just maybe, he'd wanted to hurt her. He'd wanted his words to linger. To poke at her insecurities. To make her question every belief that made her feel remotely good about herself. Jess shook his head, ashamed of his own motives. He'd deserved every hit, but the rest of it… _She didn't know,_ he told himself again. She didn't believe him, so she couldn't have known why her being that close bothered him so much. She couldn't feel the phantom in the room with them. She didn't even believe he was real. Jess didn't want to believe, regardless of what he'd done, that his own mother would have intentionally done that to him. He also tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that if he had only been a better son to her, a good son, she might have believed him when it mattered most and everything would have been different.

Jess stayed outside until his feet went numb and he started to feel a sharp pain inside his ears. He climbed back inside, but he still couldn't bring himself to climb back into that bed. He didn't even want to stay in the room. There were way too many memories, and the cold outside had only done so much good. He wanted to flee, but he knew he couldn't. Instead he grabbed the comforter off of the bed and retreated to the closet. He tucked himself inside and closed the door, wrapping himself tightly in the blanket, and after a while he felt it give him the illusion of safety. He started kicking himself for telling Liz he'd lied. He'd felt like he had no choice in the moment, not if he wanted to keep his sanity, but there was no way she would ever believe him now. He should have been stronger. He should have been able to refuse to tell her the lie she wanted so badly to hear. He should have held out, because there was now no way she would _ever_ believe the truth. How could he even blame her for not believing him after he'd told her he was lying? The sound of his own quiet, bitter laughter bounced off the walls of his little hideaway. He wasn't even allowed to say the man's name now! He tried to tell himself it didn't matter. The guy was gone. He would never hurt him again. He'd be fine. He didn't need his mommy to hold him and tell him everything would be ok. He wasn't a baby. He didn't need her to believe him. He didn't need anyone to know. He didn't want anyone to know. It was over, and that's all that mattered.

It would be almost a decade before he spoke the truth about Greg aloud again.

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 **A/N: I'm sorry. Poor Jess. This was a difficult chapter to write for a number of reasons.**

 **It was really important to me that I cover this topic well, and I'd really love whatever feedback any of you might have (whether by review or PM) as, like I said in my previous A/N, I'm quite nervous (understatement of the century) about it. Constructive criticism helps the nerves just as much as praise does, so don't hold back if you think I could've handled it better in any way or if there is any way that I could improve. I really want to know so that I can get better. And of course, if you have anything at all to say about anything, I'd love to hear it! Your reviews bring me so much happiness!**

 **The next chapter should be up in about a week, two at the most.**

 **Response to reviews:**

 **Guest: thank you so much for the feedback. I wish Jess was in a place where he could have told Julie the truth, because she would've been a good friend to him. Nancy: Jess** **is definitely motivated by self-preservation to do what he did, and I think he's learned to do it well. If only it wasn't necessary! I'm glad you picked up on so much of what I was going for regarding your other comments. I think Luke is a bit uneasy about his sister's parenting, but can't bring himself to suspect that she's really doing anything that bad. Familial love can be blinding sometimes, unfortunately. AJ Granger: it might be weird to feel bad for characters I'm writing given that I'm controlling what happens, but I feel sorry for both Jess and Julie in the last chapter. Julie has no idea what's really going on, and Jess is just trying to protect himself and ends up hurting himself in the process. He's in a no win situation.**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who faved, followed, or reviewed my story! And of course, thank you to my wonderful beta, christinegrrl.**

 **Disclaimer: I have, yet again, failed to obtain the rights to either Gilmore girls or Hamilton in the days since I posted the last chapter.**

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Chapter 5: We Rise and We Fall

Jess sat at his desk with a deck of cards, trying to ignore the yelling coming from the other room. Trying to ignore a lot of things. He focused all of his attention on the cards in his hands, shuffling and reshuffling them until he finally perfected the bridge.

The yelling in the other room grew louder, and at the sound of a slamming door Jess started and the cards spilled out of his hands mid-shuffle. He sighed and knelt to pick up the ones that had fallen to the floor, returning them a few at a time to the desk. Somewhere along the way in the past year or so, Jess had grown weak. He'd grown used to a relative lack of yelling and door slamming, even if he had always known deep down they'd both return.

His mother had never apologized for what she'd done when he was nine. They never spoke of it. Afterward, he often caught her looking at him with the same hostility and disdain she usually did, but from time to time he'd catch something else in her eye. Something that looked like regret. Something that even, perhaps, looked like shame. Jess couldn't be sure whether or not it was merely wishful thinking on his part. Despite the excuses she made for her boyfriends, she had never before personally caused Jess more than a reddened cheek or lightly bruised arm. Three months after the incident, she abruptly stopped drinking and doing drugs and started going to meetings.

In the months that followed, Jess found himself conflicted in his views towards Liz. A part of him hated his mother, and a large part of him thought his life might be simpler if he could only manage to maintain that one emotion towards her. However, in spite of himself, he still loved her, too. It didn't matter what she'd done, or more importantly, what she'd failed to do. He couldn't stop himself from loving her. So he swallowed his resentment and helped her through the detox. He held her hair while she threw up and ignored the churning feeling that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his own stomach. He made sure she had food, water, blankets, and a comforting hand when she needed it. He tried to forget that she had never done the same for him. He skipped school to stay home with her, so she would never be alone, and told himself she was only cursing at him and calling him useless because she was in pain. He set aside the knowledge that being in pain had never been an acceptable excuse for misbehavior on his part.

In spite of his better judgment, Jess had found himself hoping that this attempt at sobriety would actually stick. His mother had tried so many times before, but this was the first time the attempt was wholly instigated by her. There were no social workers breathing down her neck and no older brother begging her to be more responsible. It had been her idea and her idea alone, and Jess hoped that would make the difference. He hoped that would make it work. For a while, it did.

Jess had noticed long ago that excessive, prolonged drinking or drug use seemed to have a cumulative affect on his mother's opinion of him. The longer she was under the influence, the harsher she would be towards him. He knew he had to be extra careful not to screw up during those times. He had never dared to dream that the opposite might be true as well, but slowly her view of him began to change the longer she remained clean and sober. He saw it first in the look in her eye. The contempt in her gaze faded first into indifference, and the indifference in turn turned into something resembling kindness. The bitterness was replaced, more and more, with joy that never seemed to be dampened by his mere presence. He noticed it next in the way she treated him. The shouting grew much less frequent, reserved only for his worst offenses, and the slaps ceased entirely. She even started cooking him dinner from time to time, improperly prepared fiascos that he ate without complaint, and ate them with him, even though in the past she had always seemed to be too busy with work or parties or more interested in spending whatever free time she had with her boyfriends. She went with him to the library once, one he'd yet to be thrown out of, and looked at him with what seemed an awful lot like pride when the librarian complimented her on raising such a well read boy.

A younger Jess might have simply been pleased by these developments. As it was, he was being torn apart by contradictory emotions. Part of him reveled in her pride at the library. Part of him secretly felt she had no right to feel that pride. She didn't teach him to read. She hadn't even believed him when he told her he _could_ read. She was more likely to mock his habit than encourage it, and she certainly never went out of her way to enable it. The only part she'd played in him being well read was giving him a reason to want to escape the real world. He doubted that was the role the librarian had in mind when she complimented her.

Their shared meals were pleasant enough, and he listened dutifully to her overjoyed ramblings about the minutia of her day. Part of him enjoyed the meals. He had spent years longing for that one on one time with her. It felt surreal to finally have it. What was even more amazing was that _she_ seemed to enjoy that time with him. Part of him, however, wished she'd just let him cook the meals. He had more practice. Part of him resented the joy she radiated when talking about her day. He hated that she was able to move on from what had happened so easily. He resented the false magnanimity of her forgiveness towards him for something he hadn't even done in the first place. He resented her ability to forgive _herself_ for what she actually had done to him. He hated that she was able to live in the blissful ignorance of denial when he was struggling just to keep his head above water. He hated that she could live in happy denial when he still had to live with what Greg had done to him. He hated that on the rare occasion when she actually paused to ask about _his_ day, all he could offer her were half-truths at best.

He couldn't tell her about the content of his nightmares. He couldn't tell her about the flashbacks. He couldn't explain why his grades were slipping. Why he couldn't seem to pay attention in school. Granted, he'd never particularly liked school or found it all that interesting. They spent hours going over things that really weren't that hard to understand, and the books they read were way too easy. School was always boring, but he'd nevertheless usually been able to pay at least a modicum of attention to what the teacher was saying in the past. He just couldn't force himself to pay attention anymore. He also couldn't tell his mother why he couldn't seem to stop punching the bully who had muscled him into a corner, crowded his space, and refused to let him out. _"For God's sake, Jess,"_ she'd said, _"the kid wasn't even hitting you!"_ He'd earned some shouting for that one, not to mention a suspension from school. He also couldn't have explained, had she noticed, why he felt the need to take a shower every time she hugged him. He never had the heart to refuse her hugs, even if they did make him feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin and even if he did resent the fact that it was only now that he hated the hugs that she seemed to have any desire to give him any.

He couldn't tell her any of that, nor could he let any of the resentment that had been building for years show. He knew he was the reason she drank. He was the reason she did drugs. She'd told him that often enough. If he wanted to keep her clean and sober, then he needed to keep her happy. He needed to not be such a burden. He needed to not tell her things she couldn't handle hearing. She was trying, but he needed to do his part. Taking care of him was hard enough as it was. He didn't need to go crying to her over every little thing or acting like an ungrateful brat. It wasn't fair to her. He'd been dealing with things on his own for years. He could deal with this, too. He suppressed his bitterness and anger, keeping it inside where it could only poison him.

Her sobriety lasted 11 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days. Ten months in, Liz met a guy. Jess had begged her not to see him. In addition to his own unease about a new man coming into their lives, Jess had also made a few detours into the addiction section of the library and he knew the general consensus was that relationships during the first year of sobriety were a bad idea. Liz, of course, hadn't listened to him.

"I deserve this, Jess," Liz had said. "Can't you understand that? I work so hard all the time, and I deserve just a little bit of happiness."

"I know," Jess answered, " but… we can be happy. The two of us."

"You're not enough, Jess," Liz said. The words stung in no small part because Jess knew how true they were. He did his best to make her happy, but he had never been truly capable of being enough for her. Jess changed his tack.

"You wouldn't have to be single forever. Just wait a little while longer," Jess implored.

"I can't wait," Liz said, and Jess's heart sank at the sight of how her face lit up. "I think he's the one!" It took every ounce of self-control Jess had to not roll his eyes. He sighed.

"If he's really 'the one,' and he's going to be around forever, shouldn't he be willing to wait a few months?"

"Jess," Liz said with an indulgent smile, "you'll understand when you're older." Jess couldn't help but roll his eyes at that one, and Liz's indulgence disappeared.

"Those books of yours haven't taught you everything, kid," Liz said, irritation leaking into her voice. "I love him. He's a good guy. For once in your life just be happy for me!" Liz sighed, "just give him a chance. You'll like him, I promise."

"Where have I heard that before?" Jess muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" Liz snapped.

"Nothing," he answered sullenly, starting to walk away.

"Hey!" Liz yelled, grabbing Jess's arm to pull him back. "We're not—"

"Get off of me!" Jess ordered forcefully with a hint of underlying desperation, twisting his captured arm away and knocking hers off with his other hand. He didn't like being touched. He really didn't like being grabbed unexpectedly and held where he didn't want to be. Liz looked at him in shock, and, after the moment it took him to realize his mistake, Jess looked down at the floor to avoid her gaze. She hadn't deserved that reaction, and he didn't want to see her response. She hadn't even been gripping him that hard. She'd just been trying to stop him from leaving the conversation, and she'd used no more force than necessary to hold him and pull him back.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"You'd better be," Liz answered, voice colder than he'd heard it in months. Jess bit his lip, breathing shallowly and trying to stay in the moment. "Now, what did you say?"

"It's not important," Jess responded immediately.

"You are not the parent here!" Liz yelled. "You don't get to decide what's important. Now tell me what you said!"

"You always tell me I'm going to like them," Jess admitted quietly, "and I never do." Liz scoffed.

"You're the common factor. Ever wonder if you're the problem?" _Yes,_ Jess thought, _all the time. But I'm not the_ only _common factor._

"I'm just asking you to wait," Jess begged.

"Jess, that's enough! I'm the adult; it's my decision! It's my life!" _It's my life, too,_ Jess thought.

"But—"

"I said that's enough!" Liz's tone this time brooked no dissent. "Go to your room," she ordered. Jess didn't talk back, but neither did he head for his room. His desire to escape, which a few minutes before had had him heading to his room of his own volition, was now warring with his desire to not give an inch.

"Go to your room, NOW!" Liz ordered again. "Before I do something I'll regret," she added stonily. Jess scoffed, but heeded the warning before Liz had a chance to respond.

Liz brought the guy home a week and a half later. As far as Jess could tell, the only things Jeremy had going for him were that he was clean and sober, and he didn't _seem_ to be the violent type. Other than that, the guy was an idiot and an asshole. Liz was head over heels, though. Two weeks after Jess met him, Jeremy moved in. Jess took to sleeping with a chair wedged under his doorknob. Greg never would have tolerated that, and the desk and chair had been a recent addition to his room anyway, but Jeremy never had cause to find out Jess had even done it. He never tested Jess's door at night. Three weeks after moving in, Jeremy was gone along with half of their stuff.

Two days after that, Jess came home to find Liz sobbing on the floor in the kitchen with a bottle of vodka in front of her. It astonished Jess that something so expected could still be so disappointing. He'd known the moment Jeremy left that this would happen. Honestly, he was amazed she lasted more than a few hours.

 _"Don't look at me like that,"_ she'd told him, so he didn't look at her at all. He walked past her to his room and slammed the door. Later that night, when he woke to the sound of her throwing up in the bathroom next to his room, he turned his music up and went back to sleep. If she didn't need him to help decide if she was ready to date, if she didn't need him to help decide if she should start drinking again, if she didn't even care how either of those things would affect him, then she didn't need him to hold her hair back while she puked. As she had not so long ago reminded him, he wasn't the parent. Losing Jeremy had been enough to drive her to drink, and yet she didn't even seem to notice that she was losing her son.

It was almost five months after Liz started drinking again that Jess found himself in his bedroom with his cards. He ignored the memory of the slamming door, finished picking up the last of the cards he'd dropped, and shuffled the deck again. The cards arched perfectly. Liz was crying softly in the other room. The new guy, Pete, had arrived nearly two months ago. As far as Liz's boyfriends went, Pete wasn't actually all that bad. He drank, but didn't do drugs. He yelled a lot, but he never hit Liz. He sometimes bullied Jess, but he'd only hit him once. That, Jess was pretty sure, had just been to prove to Jess that he _would_ hit him if Jess provoked him too much. Pete told Liz that Jess had walked into a doorknob, and Jess had assured her that that was in fact what had happened. He even managed to say it with a straight face, despite how much he wanted to laugh at a) how unoriginal and see-through the excuse was (at least to anyone with a brain that wasn't halfway gone to drugs) and b) how little sense it made given his height and the height of their doorknobs. He wasn't _that_ short! Liz bought the lie, though, or at least pretended to.

That had happened the first week Pete lived with them. He'd restrained himself to threats ever since. His rules were simple enough. As long as Jess stayed out of his way, Pete would more or less leave him alone. Jess had no desire to be around Pete, or even Liz when she was with him, so that wasn't much of a problem. He was just still getting used to the constant yelling and door slamming again. The music helped a little, but past a certain volume Pete would come pounding on his door. Pete at least hadn't minded the music at night. It would block out the random creaks and footsteps that would cause him to wake up, terrified, every time. With the music, he could sleep.

Jess glanced quickly at the door and then back to his hands as the crying outside his room grew louder. He set the cards aside and pulled out the book on magic that he'd recently stolen for his 11th birthday and flipped to the section on coin tricks. He glanced at the coins on the desk (two quarters, a nickel, and three pennies), but instead of picking one up he opened one of the desk drawers, reached into the back, and withdrew the chip he'd hidden there. It was Liz's 9-month sobriety chip, which he'd stolen from her the day she started drinking again. Just a little longer and she could've gotten that 1-year chip. He shifted the chip over his knuckles from pointer to pinky and then back before palming it and looking back at the book. These things became second nature after enough practice, but they took intense concentration to perfect. Every minute movement mattered, and that was what Jess loved so much about doing magic. It was the one thing these days, he found, that could actually hold his attention.

By focusing so much on the trick, on practicing the same motions again and again, Jess could tune out just about everything else. His worries and problems would fade into the background. His memories would have no cause to ambush him. His anger and resentment disappeared and were replaced by a sense of peace that seemed very out of place in Jess's life. It was practically meditative. As he manipulated the token in his hand the same way over and over, Liz's crying seemed to grow quieter. Pete didn't even seem to exist in his mind. Even Greg's ghost took a back seat. He worked the token over and over in his hand, because he knew that in making that stupid token disappear, he could make the rest of the world disappear, too.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I'm hoping to get the next chapter up within a week or possibly two.**

 **Response to reviews:**

 **Nancy: Thanks for your feedback. It really is terrible that these kinds of things are a reality for far too many real world children. I wish Luke had seen that Jess was suffering!**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who faved, followed, and/or reviewed, and thank you to christinegrrl for beta'ing this story for me.**

 **Here comes the longest chapter of this story! Inspired by a line from the show.**

 **Disclaimer: I own neither Gilmore girls nor _Hamilton._**

* * *

Chapter 6: Dying is Easy, Living is Harder

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Liz asked Jess for what must have been the millionth time in his life. Jess was sitting at their small kitchen table sulking. His mother was standing behind the chair next to him, looking down at him with fury in her eyes. Her latest flavor-of-the-month, Alex, stood at a careful distance a few yards away, body angled partly away from the pair as though he wasn't sure whether he should turn and be part of the conversation or turn the other way and head out the door. His eyes kept flitting between the empty living room, his own shoes, and the scene playing out in the kitchen.

"Well?" Liz demanded when Jess refused to answer her question.

"Steve was being a jerk," Jess said sullenly.

"Jess," Liz responded, exasperation clear in her tone.

"He was!"

"So you decided the best way to deal with that was by hitting him?" she asked.

"He hit me first," Jess answered, "I was defending myself."

"Not according to him."

"Right, and he has no reason to lie…" Jess said sarcastically. Alex fidgeted and glanced around the room.

"You have just as much of a reason to lie, and the witnesses agreed with his version."

"Those 'witnesses' were his lackeys. Of course they backed him up! I'm not lying!"

"So you claim," Liz said, pursing her lips briefly before continuing. "Why did you really hit him, Jess?"

"Because," Jess repeated slowly, "Steve was being a jerk and he hit me first." Liz shook her head and tightened her grip on the chair in front of her.

"I am so fucking sick of your lies," Liz hissed. "I'm so fucking sick of you," she added under her breath, loud enough for only Jess to hear. He glanced away from her towards his bedroom and then down towards the table.

"Even if he _was_ being a jerk," Liz continued, "you are not allowed to hit people!" _No,_ Jess thought, _only you and your boyfriends are allowed to do that._ "How many schools do you need to get kicked out of before you learn that lesson?" _How many of your boyfriends need to steal half of our stuff before you learn to spend more than a week or two getting to know them before letting them move in?_ Jess bit his tongue. A slap on top of what Steve had done wouldn't exactly be a pleasant feeling.

"This is the third school to expel you in two years, Jess!" Liz said, voice rising. "Do you know what a pain in the ass it is for me every time you get expelled? I can't keep doing this with you! If you'd just stop fighting –"

"The second one wasn't even for fighting," Jess interrupted.

"No," Liz yelled, "they had plenty of other reasons, though. Let's see: cheating." _Why waste my time reading books that are way too young for me when the straight A student sitting next to me never covers her answers during tests?_ "Drinking on school grounds." _Better than drinking here._ "Vandalizing the school." _With chalk! Washed away with the first rain._ "And of course the final straw: stealing from that group of rich kids. Their parents were real happy about that! You're damn lucky they were content with getting you expelled, because you could've been arrested for that!" _I wouldn't have had to steal if you spent more money on food and less on drugs_ , Jess thought bitterly. _Plus those kids were assholes and had more than enough money._

"Are you even listening to me?" Liz asked, leaning forward slightly over the chair in front of her. "Because I'm telling you, Jess, I've had _enough_ of your bullshit!"

"What exactly do you want me to do the next time some kid hits me? Curl up in a ball on the floor and let him do whatever he wants?" Jess scoffed. "On second thought, I guess that shouldn't be too hard. Not like I don't have plenty of practice."

"Don't even start with that, Jess!" Liz's eyes narrowed and her grip on the chair in front of her tightened yet again. There was a nasty bite in her tone as she continued. "You're nothing but fucking trouble. You've been nothing but a pain in the ass since the day you were born. Even your father knew it. Why do you think he left?" In the silence that descended immediately following Liz's harsh words, Jess heard the sound of feet shuffling. Jess looked up, glaring at the man he'd almost forgotten was there.

"Do you have something to add," Jess spat at him, "or are you just here to enjoy the show?" Alex looked embarrassed, sheepish even, and refused to meet Jess's eye.

"I'm here to give your mom moral support," the man told him. Jess laughed.

"Of course you are. What," Jess challenged, smirking and staring intently at eyes that still wouldn't meet his, "you hoping to get laid tonight?" Alex turned scarlet, opening and closing his mouth several times without managing to actually say anything.

"Jess!" Liz shrieked, eyes wide, reaching out to smack him hard upside the back of the head. It didn't really hurt that much, she'd at least aimed for a part of his head that wasn't bruised from his fight, and seeing Alex turn such a vivid shade of red was well worth it. So worth it, in fact, that Jess decided to keep going. It was certainly more entertaining than talking about being expelled, a topic that had, Jess noted with another smirk, apparently fled everyone's mind except for his.

"What?" Jess asked, feigning innocence. "You're both adults, and it's not like I don't know what's going on. That wall between our bedrooms isn't exactly soundproof, you know, and neither of you are all that quiet…" Jess was supremely satisfied to see that even Liz was momentarily shocked into silence. Alex, who had just been returning to a normal color, was bright red again and looking skyward as if for help. Whether he was hoping for the Earth to swallow him whole or just asking for the patience to not freak out over Jess mouthing off, Jess couldn't be certain. Liz was the first to find her words, having gone from embarrassed to angry in the span of a couple of seconds.

"You little son of a bitch!" she said.

"Can't really argue with that one," Jess retorted, wondering if she would even pick up on the insult. She didn't. She narrowed her eyes slightly and ran a hand through her hair.

"Suddenly you're not going to defend yourself?" Liz asked in an uncertain tone.

"You didn't really insult me," Jess explained lazily. "If I'm the _son_ of a _bitch_ , then that makes you…" Jess trailed off, letting her finish the logic herself. When she did, four things happened in very quick succession: angry tears appeared in Liz's eyes, Liz flung the chair in front of her to the side, Jess slid off the side of his chair that was furthest from Liz and took two quick steps backward, and Alex leapt forward and placed himself between mother and son. Only the last occurrence was truly unexpected to Jess, and he wondered what the guy was playing at.

"Hey," the man said gently to Liz, running a soothing hand up and down her upper arm. "What do you say we take a break and calm ourselves down?"

"Did you hear what he called me?" Liz asked, choking slightly on her tears.

"I did, honey, and I think he needs some time in his room to think about how much that hurt you."

"Like that little bastard cares," Liz said as Alex continued to rub her arm. She was wrong about that. Jess did care. Maybe not enough to prevent the words from coming out in the first place, but enough to regret them now. No matter her failings, no matter how angry he got at her, he never liked to see his mother cry. He still sometimes wished he could truly hate her.

"Liz," Jess started, but Alex cut him off without looking at him.

"Go to your room, Jess," he ordered.

"But–"

"Don't you think you've said enough?" Alex asked sharply, shooting him a warning glance. "Go!" he commanded when Jess continued to hesitate. Jess went. He resented it, but he went.

Liz's sniffing eventually shifted from the kitchen to the bedroom, where Alex continued to try to cheer her up.

"He was mad, honey, I don't think he meant it," Jess heard him say through the wall.

"He did. He hates me," Liz answered. The misery in her tone pained him.

"No, he doesn't," Alex reassured. "He's your son. He loves you. He's just frustrated and angry."

"I'm his mother," Liz countered, "I don't love him." That hurt, too. There was a half-beat of silence before Alex answered.

"You… that's not… you don't mean that!"

"Yes, I do. I really do." _Do you have to keep twisting the knife?_ Jess thought.

"He's your son!" There was a note of scolding in his tone now.

"Yeah, well, he's not a very good one, is he?" _She's not wrong…_

"Liz…"

"Forget him. I don't want to talk about him anymore. I want to feel better."

"No!" The word came out as a sharp objection, although to what exactly Jess had no idea. "Liz, stop that… I said stop!"

"Well, you're no fun!" Liz said, and Jess could practically hear her pouting.

"Can he really hear us?" Alex asked. _Oh_ , Jess thought.

"No," Liz said unconvincingly. Jess was sure she had no idea.

"Liz…"

"If he can hear us, then he can cover his fucking ears!"

"I'm not doing that. Not tonight. I'm not going to make him… just… no, ok?" Liz sighed heavily enough for Jess to hear in response.

"You know he hates you, right?" Liz asked viciously. "He's not your son. Why do you even give a shit about him?"

"Because," Alex answered angrily, "apparently _someone_ has to!" With that, Jess heard a door open and slam shut. Soon after, Jess heard the TV turn on in the living room and his mother's crying resume in her bedroom. The idea that Alex was standing up for Jess just for the hell of it, just because he thought Jess needed someone in his corner, seemed too good to be true. Which of course, Jess thought, meant it was. Alex now knew that Jess could hear much of what was going on in the room next door, and Jess was no longer naïve enough to ignore the possibility that Alex's side of the argument had been staged for Jess's benefit. It could have been nothing more than a ploy to gain Jess's trust, and Jess wasn't going to fall for it.

# # # # #

The next day, Jess came home from the park to find Alex and a friend of his hanging some sort of thick tapestry on Liz's side of the wall between their bedrooms. Alex was too busy to notice him and, not wanting a conversation, Jess moved quickly into his own room. Once there, his attention immediately fell to the two small boxes sitting on his desk. They hadn't been there when he left that morning. The larger of the two was for a portable CD player. The smaller was for a pair of noise cancelling headphones. Jess didn't open either box, and as soon as Alex's friend left Jess picked up both and took them to the kitchen.

"What is this?" he demanded of Alex, dumping the boxes on the table.

"They're for you," Alex answered.

"I gathered. I don't want them."

"Come on, Jess," Alex said with a tired sigh.

"I don't want _any_ gifts from you, and those things are expensive. Especially the headphones." Not that Jess was going to admit it, but he'd looked into buying them for himself and knew perfectly well what they cost considering he'd been unable to purchase even the cheapest ones he could find.

"You let me worry about the price," Alex told him. "I can afford them, and they were on sale, anyway."

"That's not the point, and if you're trying to buy my approval or something then you should know right now that it's not going to work."

"I'm not trying to buy your approval, Jess," Alex told him, running a hand over his face in frustration. He picked up one of the boxes and started tapping it restlessly against the table. "These are just," Alex paused, clearing his throat as the tips of his ears began turning red, "they're for…" He trailed off, finishing the sentence with a vague circular hand motion that indicated his unwillingness to voice the rest of the sentence.

"I know what they're for," Jess said, rolling his eyes. The immediate relief that he saw on the other man's face made Jess wish he'd played dumb and tortured the man a little longer. The guy's embarrassment could be pretty amusing. "I still can't take them. Just give me a heads up or something. I'll make myself scarce. Seriously. Just tell me to get lost for a while and I'll do it."

"I'm not going to make you leave every time we…" Alex cut himself off again, wincing slightly. He continued to fidget with the box in his hands. Jess rolled his eyes.

"How old are you, man?" Jess sneered. "You can't even say the words, can you?"

"It's not about how old _I_ am!" the man told him, frowning and tossing the box back onto the table with slightly more force than necessary. His voice grew harder as he continued. "You're _thirteen_ and she's your mother!"

"What? You trying to protect my innocence? Because that flew out the window a _long_ time ago," Jess said, smirk firmly in place to make it seem like a boast and disguise the real meaning behind his words.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Alex muttered.

"Maybe you're not as stupid as you seem," Jess answered, satisfied by the resulting flash of anger in Alex's eyes.

"I'm _trying_ to be a decent guy with you, Jess, because I know this is difficult for you, but I have to tell you: I'm running out of patience." Alex walked away a few steps and then returned, jaw tight. "I was trying to do something nice for you, fix a problem that _you_ brought up, and all you can do is insult me." _What can I say?_ Jess thought. _You make it so easy._

"So stop trying," Jess bit back. "Stop trying to be all buddy-buddy. I don't need you to be nice to me. I don't need you to do things for me. I don't need you to buy me things. I don't need you to be my friend. I couldn't care less whether you give a shit about me or not. What I need is for you to leave me the hell alone. I don't need anything else from you. I was fine before you got here, and I'll be fine in a couple of months when you're long gone."

"I'm not going anywhere, Jess. You need to get used to that."

"Yeah, well," Jess said with a knowing laugh, "we'll see about that." Alex crossed his arms over his chest, glancing down and closing his eyes briefly.

"We will see. You will see. You can push me as much as you want, Jess, I'm not going to stop trying to be decent to you and I'm not going to let you run me off."

"You trying to convince me of that, or yourself?" Jess asked, suspecting based on the man's posture and tone that the answer was the latter.

"You," Alex spat before reigning in his temper and continuing with forced calm. "I know who I am."

"Really?" Jess asked, tone playful and condescending, "because sixty seconds ago you were telling me you were running out of patience, which begs the question: what's going to happen when you _do_ 'run out of patience'? Either you're going to keep being decent to me and not get run off no matter what, or you're about to lose your patience, whatever that means. So which is it?"

Alex sighed and glanced first at the ceiling and then back to Jess. "Both," he answered.

"And here I was thinking you were smarter than you seemed. It can't be both, and I'm pretty sure I know better than you which it'll turn out to be. And by the way, you're delusional if you think those things," Jess indicated the boxes on the table, "are actually for me. You bought them to alleviate your own discomfort, because you realized last night that knowing there was a 13-year-old boy in the next room who could hear everything was a turnoff for you."

"I got them because I didn't want you to have to hear it," Alex said.

"Sure you did. You're Saint Alex the Benevolent, no ulterior motives in sight! I'm sure you won't mind, then, that I don't want them. It doesn't bother me, anyway," Jess insisted. Alex laughed at the assertion.

"I may not know you all that well, Jess, but even I know that's bullshit. She's your mother. It bothers you." Jess glanced away, conceding the point. "Please just take the damn things, Jess! Like I said, they were on sale. I can't return them. Liz and I aren't going to use them." Jess looked at the boxes with uncertainty.

"Look," Alex said, picking up the boxes and leaving the kitchen to deposit them in Jess's room before returning to finish his statement, "I'm leaving them in there. Use them. Don't use them. Throw them out. I don't care. It's up to you, and I don't even need to know what you decide. Do whatever you want, and if it helps for you to think I just bought them for my own benefit… then, fine." With that, Alex stormed off into his bedroom and banged the door behind him. Jess hesitated, but eventually returned to his own room as well, silently closing his door.

Jess stared at the boxes indecisively for a while. _I don't even need to know._ The words echoed in Jess's mind. It meant he could use them without having to acknowledge the gifts or even openly admit that he'd changed his mind about accepting them. It did seem pretty stupid, not to mention wasteful, to throw them out. Jess sighed and started to open the boxes.

# # # # #

Jess sat in the living room a couple of months later ignoring the annoying ringing of the phone in the kitchen while reading a book. His mother's words when she finally picked it up barely made a dent on his consciousness until partway through the conversation.

"He didn't make it," Liz said into the phone. It wasn't the words that caught Jess's attention, but rather the tone. His mother's voice was oddly empty. Sterile. Devoid of all emotion, good or bad. It wasn't even that she sounded like she felt indifferent about what she was saying. It was that she sounded like she didn't feel anything at all. Jess got the odd impression that Liz had been repeating someone else's words without actually taking in their meaning. Jess gazed at her with mild concern as she stood silently listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone, trying unsuccessfully to discern any kind of emotion in his mother's blank expression.

"What do you mean?" Liz asked, pausing to hear the response. She began to shake her head. "No, no, that's not possible!" Another pause. "That's not possible!" There was anger in her voice now, but Jess could sense that there was something else beneath it. He put his book to the side and sat forward on the edge of the couch, ready to stand.

"You're WRONG!" Liz shouted, slamming the phone down. She paused for a split second before picking it up and slamming it back down as hard as she could again and again. "You're wrong. You're wrong. You're wrong," she mumbled to herself as pieces of the base of the phone snapped off and flew off to various parts of their kitchen floor. Jess jumped out of his seat and rushed over to her.

"Liz, stop!" Jess said softly as he approached her, gently taking hold of her left arm and trying to pull her away from the phone. She turned to him, dropped the phone, and used both hands to shove him away from her. Jess stumbled back a couple of steps, but stayed on his feet.

"Go… away!" Liz told him, but the authority of the order was undercut by the sob that separated the two words. Now that she was facing him, Jess could see the tears running freely down her cheeks. They formed little rivulets, pooling at her chin, and Jess just couldn't bring himself to leave her like that.

"Liz," Jess said, voice still soft as he reached towards her again. She lunged towards him suddenly, and Jess couldn't help but flinch away. His first instinct was to expect a blow, an attack, even, and it took him far too long after her arms closed around him to recognize that she was merely hugging him. It had been a few years since she'd last tried to hug him, and now that he once again found himself in her arms he was incredibly grateful that he no longer had quite the same issue with being touched as he used to. Jess followed his mother's lead, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as her body shook mightily with each sob.

"I'm sorry," she managed to get out. "I'm so sorry." For what, exactly, Jess wasn't sure.

"It's ok," he told her, running a soothing hand across her back as she continued to cry. "It's ok, Liz, it's ok."

"No, it's not!" Liz replied, voice high pitched, desperate and pained. "It's not ok! It'll never be ok…"

"Shh," he soothed, "shh, it's –" Jess cut himself off before he could finish the meaningless reassurance. "Liz, what happened?" His mother's crying only intensified at the question, and she clutched tightly at the back of his shirt. She started shaking her head slowly.

"Please tell me what happened, Liz," Jess implored, but Liz merely started shaking her head faster, burrowing into his shoulder. An ounce of irritation at her lack of cooperation and communication sprung up in his mind, but it was quickly overpowered by his growing concern.

"Is it Alex?" Jess guessed. His only answer was a sob and the way in which Jess suddenly found himself supporting his mother's entire weight as her legs went out from under her. The unexpected burden made one of his knees buckle, hitting the floor with a painful thud that he ignored. _I'm gonna kill him,_ Jess thought as he shifted the pair of them slightly so that they were sitting and leaning against the wall. Or rather, he was leaning against the wall. Liz was still leaning heavily against him.

"What did he do?" Jess asked, unable to keep a slight edge from creeping into his voice. His mother tensed in his arms, pulling away from him almost imperceptibly. Jess doubted that someone watching her, rather than holding her, would even have noticed the change.

"Nothing!" Liz insisted quietly. "He didn't do… he didn't… he died!" Liz started crying even harder and went to pull away from Jess for real, but when he didn't let go immediately she collapsed against him again. _Guess killing him isn't an option,_ Jess noted, but he instantly regretted the thought and felt like a horrible person.

"I'm sorry," Jess whispered, holding Liz tighter. "I'm so sorry." He didn't know what else to say. He had no experience with this, which, now that he thought about it, was actually rather surprising given the kind of lifestyle most of her boyfriends led.

"We were supposed to be together forever!" Liz said, sounding far too broken for Jess to find any humor or even annoyance in the familiar words.

"I know," Jess lied softly. "I know you were." Neither spoke for a long time after that. They sat for what seemed like hours, for what may well have been hours, with Liz's crying the only sound in the otherwise quiet apartment. Jess felt helpless. He didn't know what he could possibly do to help, so he just held her.

Eventually, Liz's sobs quieted and she pulled away from her son and leaned against the wall on her own. "I need a drink," she muttered miserably, covering her face with her hands. Jess's heart sank, but he went and poured her one anyway.

# # # # #

The funeral was four days later. Alex was buried in his hometown, which, Jess learned, was about an hour and a half outside of the city. Jess had never asked about, or been interested in, Alex's former life. He'd never much cared what his mother's boyfriends did before they entered his life, nor what they did once they left it. Most of them barely even seemed like real people to him. They were just men who floated in and out of his life, none staying long enough to become much more than a caricature in his mind. _How exactly is someone supposed to mourn a caricature?_ Jess wondered.

Jess sat in the front row of the church, the one reserved for the closest family members, listening as men and women he'd never met eulogized the man. They all seemed to love him, but Jess supposed those with less fond feelings don't tend to speak at funerals. Liz spoke, too, or at least tried. She only managed to get a couple of sentences out before the crying overtook her. He could have told her she wouldn't be able to do it. Of course, she hadn't asked his opinion. He felt glued to his seat as she cried and tried to get the words out, but then she looked up at him with pools of desperation in her eyes. He found himself rising to his feet and moving towards her.

"It's ok," he whispered to her when he reached her. "It's ok, c'mon." He tried to guide her back towards the pews with him, but she refused to go more than two steps away from the microphone.

"I h-have… have to!" she muttered to him.

"You don't," Jess reassured her, "they all understand. It's ok." Liz shook her head, unable to say more. She clasped a piece of paper tightly in her hand, gesturing to it and refusing to budge. His stomach twisted as he watched her struggle with her dilemma. She had something to say, couldn't say it, and couldn't leave until it had been said.

"It's ok," Jess repeated, coming to a decision and taking hold of the other end of the paper in his mother's hand. "I'll do it. Just go sit down, ok? I'll read it." There was so little he could do for Liz, but he could do this. It was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, but he could do it. It wasn't like he was going to burst into tears.

When he reached the microphone, he introduced himself as Liz's son. He wasn't really sure what he was to Alex. He was acutely aware of all the eyes on him as he started to deliver his mother's speech, so he just stared at the paper and tried to ignore their existence. He glanced up only occasionally and only ever at his mother. She was the only one in the room who really mattered. He was giving the speech for her in more sense than one. Everyone else, even those sitting right next to her, suddenly seemed very far away. The words were sappy and sentimental and not entirely appropriate for the occasion, but then that was Liz for you.

It didn't take long for Jess to finish his mother's short speech, and once he was done he returned to sit beside her in the front pew. Liz leaned towards him as he sat down, taking the far side of his face in her hand and turning his head so he was looking at her. She gently laid her forehead on his for a few moments, whispering, "Thank you, sweetie." Jess closed his eyes, soaking in the rare overt display of warmth and affection. He knew it was temporary, he knew it was only because she was in so much pain and he was her only real lifeline, but in that moment it didn't matter. It didn't matter that it wasn't real. It didn't matter that it wouldn't last. He basked in her fleeting approval until she turned her attention away from him, leaving her hand on his. He wondered briefly what it said about him that he was capable of feeling joy at a funeral.

Jess's thoughts were elsewhere, and he barely heard the rest of the service. It was much of the same, he knew. Soon enough they were filing out of the church, with those "closest" to the deceased following the hearse down the road to the gravesite. As they lowered the casket into the grave, Jess was intensely aware of the fact that he seemed to be the only one in the front row who wasn't crying. There he stood, given a place of precedence by virtue of his mother and the relationship they all presumed that meant he had with Alex, expected to grieve a man he never really knew and didn't really like. He felt like an intruder. An imposter. He didn't belong there. Couldn't they see that? He felt a strong desire to escape, maybe run and hide behind one of the bigger gravestones, when he noticed Alex's mother Mary heading towards him after the burial. He didn't even have Liz for cover, as she'd gone off to a nearby building in search of a bathroom.

"Hey, Jess," the woman said to him kindly. "How are you doing?" It was a question he'd been asked a lot lately, and always in that same tone. The tone that told you the person knew. The one that said it wasn't the idle question it normally would have been and indicated that some variation of "good" was not the only socially acceptable answer.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Jess asked her, shifting from one foot to the other. The ground was sodden and muddy and he sank down half an inch. The woman offered him a timid smile.

"Grief isn't competitive, sweetheart. You have as much a right to your feelings as I do." _Do I have a right to not feel anything?_ Jess wondered.

"I'm doing ok," he answered.

"Good," she said, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I'm sorry this is the first time we've met. Alex talked about you, you know. He liked you." _Is she lying to me, or did he lie to her?_ Jess thought. She seemed genuine enough, so Jess guessed it was the latter.

"He told me you liked to read a lot," she continued, "from what he told me I'm surprised you don't have a book in your hand right now!" Jess gave her a half smile.

"Liz said it would be inappropriate to bring one," Jess admitted. He'd tried to sneak one past her anyway, but it hadn't worked.

"Nonsense," Mary assured him. "We have to take comfort where we can find it." _Comfort,_ Jess thought. _Right._ "Don't you agree?" the woman asked him. Jess nodded.

"I'm glad," she said, pulling a book out of her handbag, "because I brought this for you." Jess's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the book, and grew even wider at the declaration that it had specifically been brought for him. _Why?_ Jess thought, genuinely bewildered. Mary was looking at the book like it was precious, and Jess was starting to get curious.

"This belonged to Alex," she explained. "I bought it for him when he was not too much older than you. I always loved to read, and he wasn't really a big reader, my Alex, but he loved this book. I think he'd want you to have it." _Oh, no,_ Jess thought in horror. _No, no, no, no, no. No. You are not giving me your dead son's cherished childhood keepsake!_

"No, no, I couldn't," Jess protested, tugging at the sleeves of his borrowed suit jacket. "You should keep it."

"I insist," Mary answered, "you should have something of his." _WHY?_ Jess thought desperately.

"But you bought it for him, and it means so much to you." _Can I just pointblank refuse? How horrible would that be? She just buried her son._

"You'll enjoy it, though, and I really do think he'd want you to have it." _Only because he lied to you._ Jess again shifted uneasily from foot to foot, sinking further into the mud. Suddenly he couldn't look at Mary.

"Please, Jess," she implored, "take the book? It would mean a lot to me." When her voice broke, so did his resolve to refuse the offering.

"Ok," he agreed. "If it really means that much to you."

"It does," she said. She handed him the paperback, which he reluctantly accepted.

"Thanks," he told her belatedly.

"You're welcome," she answered. "You take care of yourself, you hear me? And you take care of your mom. She needs you."

"I will," Jess promised. He meant it, too. The second part, anyway.

Ten minutes later Jess finally saw Liz making her way back to him. When she got close enough, he noticed the pinched expression on her face.

"Mary gave it to me," Jess said quickly in his own defense. "It was Alex's. She wanted me to have it."

"What did you say to her?" Liz demanded.

"I tried to tell her to keep it, but –"

"Not about the book, Jess, I don't care about the fucking book," Liz hissed, and Jess looked around uncomfortably to see if anyone was within earshot. It didn't seem like it, as long as they both kept their voices down. They were still relatively close to the grave, but the others had all started wandering off to their cars. "What did you say about me?"

"I didn't say anything about you," Jess answered, frowning.

"Don't lie to me," Liz snapped.

"I'm not!"

"Then why did she just tell me not to take you for granted?" Liz asked. Jess scoffed.

"Do you seriously need me to answer that question? Look where we're standing, Liz! Do you really need me to explain to you why a woman who just buried her son might tell you not to take yours for granted?" Liz's eyes flickered to the grave, and when they came back to her son there was a new uncertainty in them.

"You really didn't say anything?"

"No! Why would I?"

"I don't know… I'm-I'm not sure I know anything anymore…" She'd started crying again, and Jess sighed.

"It's ok, Liz. It's fine. Let's… let's just get out of here, ok?" Jess needed to be done with this whole ordeal, and luckily Liz acquiesced to his suggestion without argument. She didn't seem inclined to want to stay, anyway. They skipped the funeral reception and made their way straight back to New York. Jess pulled the book out once Liz stopped crying enough for him to be fairly sure she wasn't going to accidentally start going the wrong way down the highway or anything. _The Old Man and the Sea_ was one he'd read before, but it was well worth a re-read.

 _Dammit,_ Jess thought, _the guy had good taste in books._

* * *

 **A/N: I'm going on vacation soon and won't have much internet access, so unless the next chapter is up in the next few days (which is possible, but unlikely) it'll probably be around two weeks or a little longer before I get it posted. No promises, though, as I'm not sure how much time I'll have to write while away. As always, I very much appreciate feedback of all kinds (constructive criticism included).**

 **Responses to reviews:**

 **AJ Granger: Thanks for the feedback, and I'm happy to hear that you thought the chapter fit well with the story/the show. It's unfortunate, but signs of abuse are often misinterpreted or overlooked. So often, we see what we expect to see. I think in Luke's case it's mostly because he can't bring himself to think his sister would harm (or allow others to harm) Jess. In the show, Lorelai took one look at him and thought she understood him, but she didn't actually take the time to get to know him or consider the possibility that the rebelliousness she saw in him came from a different place than her own teenage rebelliousness.  Nancy: Thank you for your feedback. Liz certainly has a tendency to think someone is "the one" and is subsequently unable to see their faults! Jess has had to grow up very quickly in many ways, and I agree that he is more of a parent to Liz than she is to him in regard to who takes care of whom. I wish Luke had been there and seen what was going on, as I have no doubt that if he'd known he would have done everything in his power to get Jess out of there and give him a proper home. **


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks as always to everyone who faved/followed/reviewed, and special thanks to my beta Christinegrrl (especially for the multiple rounds of feedback she provided for this chapter).**

 **Disclaimer: If anyone is under the impression that I own anything at this point, I'm not sure a disclaimer will help ;) (But just in case... I don't own the Gilmore girls universe or the lyrics of _Hamilton_ )**

* * *

Chapter 7: The World You Know

"He's gonna be pissed! I'm not leaving you here alone!" Over the past six months or so, the yelling coming from the apartment across the hall had become almost as much a fixture of Jess's life as the drama inside his own apartment. It was all a little too familiar. He'd seen the dad on his way into the building, finishing a beer with a couple of guys downstairs, so Jess figured it was just the kid and the mom he was hearing as he made his way to his door.

"I'll handle him, Sebastian—"

"Don't call me that. And it's my fault. I'm not leaving." Despite the boy's words, Jess heard the door open behind him as he fiddled with the lock that always seemed to jam these days.

"It'll be worse for both of us if you stay, baby, and you know it. I love you. Now get the hell out of here and I better not see you until tonight!"

"But—"

The door shut between mother and son, cutting off the rest of the boy's sentence, just as Jess's door finally unlocked. "Ma!" the boy yelled instead of whatever he'd been planning to say, pounding on the door with an open hand. "Dammit," he muttered and started to walk away. Jess must have had a small stroke or something, because the next thing he knew he'd grabbed the kid's arm as he made to pass him and pulled him into Jess's apartment.

"What the fuck?" the boy objected. He pulled away from Jess, backing deeper into the room as a result.

"Your dad's downstairs," Jess explained, "if you're trying to avoid him…"

"I'm not," the boy said.

"Ok," Jess answered, allowing him the lie.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Whatever you say."

"It's none of your business!" The boy glared at Jess.

"Couldn't agree more," Jess answered. He still wasn't even sure why he'd gotten involved in the first place. It really _wasn't_ his business.

"Get out of my fucking way," the boy said suddenly in as threatening a tone as possible for a kid Jess towered over and outweighed. Jess knew the tactic well as well as the message it was meant to send: _you might be able to beat me, but whatever it is you want from me? It's not worth the fight I'll put up._ Jess rolled his eyes and casually moved away from the door he'd been inadvertently blocking. It had never been his intention to make the kid feel trapped.

"You wanna get your ass kicked out there, you go right ahead. I won't stop you."

"Fuck you!"

"I'm sorry, if you want to go out to the loving embrace of your father, who is of course in no way pissed at you, then you go right ahead. Wouldn't want to get in the way of your Leave It to Beaver moment."

"Why wouldn't you just tell me he was down there, huh? If you're just some Good Samaritan, then why not just warn me instead of dragging me in here? That's creepy, man." The boy's tone still held a hard edge, and there was a challenge to it, but his body language had relaxed a little as he made his way to the door. His hand was on the doorknob, but he didn't turn it. Instead, he waited for the answer to his question. Jess made his way over to the living room, giving the boy about as much space as he could without going into one of the bedrooms.

"'Cause your dad looked like he was heading up here any second when I passed him and if he came walking down the hall while I was warning you… well, let's just say I really wasn't interested in getting in the middle of all that _family love_ you've got going on."

"Again," the boy said, "fuck you." The kid's tone had softened slightly, however, and as Jess plopped onto the sofa the boy took a few steps away from the door. Jess could practically see the thoughts running through the kid's head, as well as the threat assessment currently underway.

"What makes you think I'm avoiding my dad?" The boy's voice was low, and for the first time Jess noted nervousness in his face as he glanced towards the door.

"Other than the conversation you just had with your mom?" Jess asked. "These walls are paper thin. I've heard a lot of things these past few months." The boy winced slightly and glanced away, but embarrassment quickly turned to anger on his face as he turned back and glared at Jess.

"Yeah, well, that goes both ways," the boy pointed out. "What'd you do to make your dad hate you so much, huh?" Jess's face hardened at the question.

" _Step-_ dad," Jess corrected. The latest idiot was no kind of father to him. Liz had married him after only a few months of dating shortly before Jess turned fifteen, and two months after the marriage the relationship was already crumbling. Jess figured he'd be gone within the month.

"My mistake," the boy answered, "what'd you do to make your _step_ -dad hate you so much?" There was a viciousness to the question, and to the boy's tone, but Jess let it slide. He'd caught the kid out on something he didn't want the world to know, and now he was in attack mode. Jess could relate far too well to be offended by it, even if he didn't particularly like being on the receiving end.

"Other than exist?" Jess asked rhetorically. "A lot of things. Mocked him. Stole from him. 'Undermined his authority.' Told Liz, that's my mom, that he was cheating on her. Refused to look after his brats when they were visiting. Guy gets them one weekend a month and he tried to pawn them off on me the whole time while he and Liz got wasted. Guy's a total jerk.

"So, what about you? What'd you do to get your dad so mad your mom kicked you out?" The boy's anger had slowly ebbed as Jess listed his own crimes.

"He's not mad yet," the kid replied. He made his way over to the armchair next to the couch and sat down, apparently having decided that Jess didn't pose an immediate threat. "He just will be when he gets home."

"Why?" Jess asked.

"I was being an idiot and broke the TV," the kid said miserably. Jess winced, but said nothing in response. "The _new_ TV," the boy continued, "the _nice_ TV we never could've afforded if not for the money my dad got off of a scratch-off lottery ticket. He doesn't have the cash to replace it."

"Damn."

"Exactly."

"You're pretty screwed, aren't you?"

"Fuck you," the boy said, but this time there was no animosity behind the words. Jess smirked.

"You can hang here as long as you want," Jess answered. "Liz and the step-dad haven't been around in days and probably won't be back anytime soon. Should be pretty peaceful." The boy looked at him with suspicion.

"What do you want in return?"

"Nothing," Jess answered.

"Nothing in this city is truly free," the boy said, scoffing. Jess eyed him carefully. He didn't want anything from him, but he knew the boy wouldn't accept that as an answer. If he was anything like Jess, and Jess had the strong impression that the kid was very much like him, he wouldn't want to be in anyone's debt. He wouldn't want to accept a favor unless he knew, for sure, what it would cost him. And "nothing" smelled funny.

"Look, I was just trying to help a neighbor avoid getting his ass kicked. I wasn't expecting any payback, but if you want to pay me back… then if a time comes when I need to hide out for a little bit and it's safe for me to hide with you, then you let me. Sound like a deal?"

Help in the form of self-interest was much easier for the boy to accept, as Jess knew it would be. The kid visibly relaxed.

"Deal," the boy answered, slouching back in the chair. Jess stood and headed for the kitchen.

"Want a drink? We've got sprite, coke, water," Jess said, _and beer, but I'm saving that for me,_ he continued silently. Step-dad #3 would be pissed when he saw Jess had stolen his beer, but that was a problem he'd deal with when the time came.

"Water's fine," the boy answered, and Jess went to get it. Behind him, the boy bent to put his head in his hands.

"He's going to hurt her," the kid admitted to his knees. Jess paused in his preparations and closed his eyes momentarily. _Maybe not as much like me as I'd thought,_ Jess thought, glancing over towards the kid. He wasn't prepared for that particular kind of confession. What you'd done to piss someone off seemed like a much safer topic than the stark reality of what happened once you did. Especially when you were helpless to stop it. Jess brought the water over, but the boy made no move to drink it.

"What am I supposed to call you?" Jess asked the boy. "Apparently not Sebastian…"

"That's my dad's name," he explained, not lifting his head. "You can call me anything other than that. I've got a bunch of nicknames: Seb, Sly, Red, Brown, Cy… take your pick or make a new one. I don't really care."

"Cy? Like Cy Young?"

"Nah," the kid expanded, sounding a little embarrassed, "I'm not really a baseball kind of guy. It's from Encyclopedia Brown. Loved it when I was a kid, and it got shortened to Cy as a nickname."

"I liked those books, too," Jess offered. Honestly, he found the mysteries a little too easy to solve by the time he started reading those books, but he correctly guessed that the kid's discomfort was the result of having a nickname that stemmed from a book rather than a sports figure. The latter was generally more acceptable for a boy, especially in the world they inhabited. Jess, of course, saw nothing wrong with it.

"I'll go with Cy for now, then," Jess added. Cy was still staring at his knees. Jess was deeply uncomfortable with this kind of thing, but he was too far in to just abandon the kid completely. He'd changed the topic, and he sensed that Cy had no intention of changing it back, but it didn't feel right to ignore what the kid had said.

"Look, Cy, your mom seemed to think she could handle your dad. Get him to calm down."

"What she means is he'll take his anger out on her and mostly leave me alone later. He'll go easier on her, because she didn't actually do anything, but he will hurt her. She just wanted to save _me_ from it." Cy shook his head. "I'm such a fucking coward."

An ugly flare of jealousy burst into Jess's heart. The 12-year-old sitting in front of him was heartbroken and guilt-ridden over what was going to happen to his mom, and yet for a moment all Jess could think about was how nice it would be to have a mom who cared that much about him. He wouldn't want Liz to actually get hurt, of course, but he still thought it would be nice for her to be willing to get hurt to protect him. He knew that made him a terrible person, for a number of reasons, and he tried to fight the feeling.

"What would happen if you were there?" Jess asked, doing his best to set his jealousy aside.

"He'd go after me. She'd try to step in and stop him, he'd hurt her bad enough to make her stop trying, and then he'd start back in on me. It's a lot worse if I try to stop him from going after her."

"Sounds like it's better for her that you're not going to be there, then. That's not cowardly."

"Yeah, well, what the fuck do you know?" Cy said. Jess laughed.

"That's the spirit, kid," he said.

"I'm not a kid," Cy objected.

"Of course not," Jess said, still chuckling.

"Fuck you!" Cy said, which only made Jess laugh harder.

"C'mon, tough guy, let me teach you how to play poker."

They'd only been playing for a few minutes when Cy's father's angry voice began making its way into the apartment. Jess ignored the way Cy's grip on his cards tightened as well as the way they shook in his hand. When the yelling was joined by the sound of thuds and Cy was no longer able to look at Jess, Jess stood and went to his room. He brought back his CD player, plugging it in in the living room.

"What's poker without some music, huh?" he asked. He turned the volume up high enough to drown out the noises coming from across the hall. The kid might not be able to avoid knowing what was happening in the abstract, but that didn't mean he should have to hear it. It took a while, but eventually Cy's grip on his cards began to relax.

# # # # #

"You gotta stop trying to force it," Jess told Cy six months later, looking up from his book to glance toward Cy from his position on the bed. Cy was crouching over by the door, trying and failing to work the lock on Jess's bedroom door. "You can't just jam the tools in there and expect it to work. You gotta feel for it."

"This is pointless!" Cy complained.

"You're the one who said he wanted to learn."

"And you said you could teach me!" Cy said. Jess smirked and rolled his eyes.

"I did. You've just got to practice and get the hang of it." Cy turned back to the lock again and worked on it for several minutes before huffing in exasperation.

"This is impossible!"

"That lock's not even that complicated, man," Jess said, getting up and gesturing for Cy to give him the tools. It took Jess approximately two seconds to pick the lock.

"I hate you," Cy growled. Jess grinned, used the tools to relock the door, and handed them back to him. Cy's eyes caught momentarily on the bruises encircling Jess's right wrist before he accepted the proffered tools, but he made no comment nor did he have any discernable reaction to them. He knew, so he didn't have to ask. Jess was grateful for that. Cy was one of very few people from whom Jess didn't take great pains to hide his bruises. In fact, at the moment, he was the only such person. Jess hid them even from those who had inflicted them. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing the evidence of their handiwork, seeing just how much they'd hurt him, nor did he really want to hear the rare apology the sight would occasionally provoke. But Cy's reactions never irked him in the same way the reactions of others did. He'd never call the cops. He usually didn't ask for details. His eyes never filled with pity, and only rarely did they fill with anger.

"Keep trying," Jess ordered, "but stop trying to force it. You're going to break the lock."

"And that would be a bad thing?" Cy shot back. "Don't think I haven't noticed this locks on the outside." Jess rolled his eyes again, but his heart was only half in it.

"It locks on both sides," Jess answered.

"Yeah, and who has the key?"

Jess ignored both the question and the (accurate) insinuation. "You break it, then I get in trouble and they just use _my_ money to replace the stupid thing. So, yes, it's a bad thing."

"Fine," Cy conceded with a sigh, seeming to drop the topic. He turned back to the lock and proceeded with more caution. "You'd think through sheer volume she'd find a good one every now and then…" he muttered to himself. Jess knew perfectly well that Cy didn't mean anything by the comment and that it stemmed mostly from the younger boy's frustrated hope that Liz might actually find "a good one" who would treat Jess with some semblance of respect. Cy's own mother stayed with his father out of a sense of necessity. She had no money. No job. No family to speak of except for Cy. She had nowhere to run. She had no choices. Liz chose a new man every other minute, and Cy had yet to give up on the idea that she might find someone better than she had thus far. All the same, Jess couldn't resist taking advantage of the opportunity to toy with Cy a bit by pretending to misinterpret his statement, which was in part to eventually make the boy laugh, and in part for his own entertainment.

"You calling my mother a slut?" Jess asked, standing and putting enough edge in his tone to make the younger boy mishandle the lock picking tools and send them clattering to the floor.

"What? No!" Cy insisted, turning to face Jess. Jess raised an eyebrow, struggling to maintain a straight face in light of Cy's obvious unease. Somewhere along the line the kid had started to drop the tough guy act when nervous around Jess. "I didn't mean it like that! I just… I meant… I-I-I…" Jess broke into a grin when Cy started stuttering, plopping back down on the bed.

"You're such an asshole!" Cy said at the realization that Jess hadn't been serious, but he smiled anyway and chuckled.

"Oh, come on, you walked right into that one," Jess answered. "You'd have thought less of me if I _didn't_ mess with you a little!"

"I thought you were gonna kick my ass!"

"Couldn't be helped," Jess said with a shrug.

"Asshole," Cy repeated, rolling his eyes and shaking his head a little. He picked up the tools and started back in on the lock. "Seriously, though," Cy asked, glancing back at Jess, "what happened to this one trying to be your friend?" Jess shrugged again.

"Exactly what I said would happen: he slept with Liz and had no more use for me. The whole 'I want to be your friend' thing was just a means to an end, and he got the end he wanted. He doesn't think he needs to suck up to me to get closer to her anymore, so now I'm just a nuisance. Utterly predictable."

"That sucks, man," Cy said to the doorknob. "I thought he seemed ok. Better than the last one, at least."

"That's because you're only used to the one kind of abusive jerk." Jess ignored the glare Cy shot him. "I've got experience with the whole abusive rainbow. You learn to see it coming from a mile away."

" _You_ learn to see it coming," Cy muttered under his breath. " _She_ on the other hand…"

"Watch it," Jess warned, catching the criticism of his mother, "or I might have to kick your ass for real." Jess might secretly think his mother should've learned how to see them coming by now, too, but that didn't mean he was going to let anyone else criticize her or blame her for her abusive boyfriends. Even if they did only abuse him.

"Sorry," Cy responded immediately, "I'm just mad at this stupid lock. It's messing with my sense of decency and decorum." Jess nodded and let the comment slide, but a hint of irritation remained. Cy normally would've picked up on that, but his focus was torn between the conversation and the lock.

"It's not that big a deal, anyway," Jess said. "He's not the worst I've seen, and it's not like I expected the friend act to continue."

"If you say so," Cy said, sighing at the lock. Jess mistook the boy's distracted tone for one of slight skepticism and his frustration with the lock for frustration with Jess's assertion regarding the seriousness of the situation with Liz's boyfriend.

"I can handle it," Jess insisted. Cy glanced up at the slight hint of defensiveness in Jess's voice. Jess's posture on the bed was rigid and he was staring intently at Cy.

"I never said you couldn't," Cy reminded Jess, setting his task aside to focus his attention on his friend. "I just said it sucks." Jess didn't answer. "Seriously, man, ignore me. My mind's not even really in this conversation. I don't know what I'm saying. This lock is pissing me off."

It really wasn't like Cy to question Jess's assertions when it came to Liz's boyfriends or insinuate that any of it was more than Jess could handle, and after a few moments Jess accepted the kid's explanation. He was probably being a little paranoid, anyway, and reading way too much into relatively harmless statements.

"Then why don't you take a break?" Jess asked.

"Hell no!" Cy said, turning his attention back to the door and returning to his work when he noticed the defensiveness drop from Jess's voice. "This stupid lock doesn't get to win."

"It's an inanimate object…"

"So?"

"So I don't think it will derive any satisfaction out of seeing you admit defeat momentarily in order to take a break."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Cy said, laughing. "This thing clearly has evil powers. My theory is that it just likes you and _lets_ you pick it."

"That's clearly the only reasonable explanation," Jess deadpanned.

"I thought it was pretty obvious," Cy responded. The mood in the room had grown considerably lighter, and the two fell into an amiable silence that was broken a few minutes later by Cy's exuberant shout of "YES!" when he successfully picked Jess's lock.

"Told you that you could do it!" Jess said, smiling at Cy.

"Yeah, but you're a liar, so I didn't really believe you." Jess tossed a pillow in Cy's general direction, but his mood shifted instantly when he heard a door open and close outside his bedroom. He hurried over to Cy's side and silently took the tools from him, quickly using them to relock his door. He then grabbed Cy by the arm and pushed him into his closet.

"Keep your mouth shut," Jess warned him in a whisper, handing him the tools and shutting the door. He had just made his way back to his bed and picked up his book when his door was unlocked and opened.

"Did I just hear talking in here?" his mom's boyfriend Samuel asked.

"No," Jess answered without looking up from his book.

"So I'm just going crazy?"

"I'm not sure 'going crazy' is the phrase I'd use," Jess answered, standing and crossing his arms. "Pretty sure you were crazy to start with."

"I'd watch how you speak to me," the man warned.

"What are you going to do about it?" Jess challenged. The man reached out and grabbed Jess's wrist, pulling his arm out and pushing his sleeve up with the other hand.

"I might just have to add to your pretty little bruise collection," he answered. Jess pulled his hand away angrily, but before he could put any space between them the man had reached out and grabbed his arm again. The man's hand clasped painfully around Jess's wrist, and he used his hold on him to yank Jess towards him. He wrapped his free hand around Jess's throat, and Jess instinctively reached up for that hand, but he didn't try to pull it away. He wouldn't be able to, and this wasn't the time to provoke the guy. The hold was firm, but it was neither painful nor enough to cut off his air supply. It was meant to scare and control him, not kill or even hurt him, but Jess knew how quickly such a hold could turn deadly.

"You know, I don't know why you insist on being such a smartass all the time. If you'd just do what I tell you to, stay out of my way, and not talk back all the time, you and I might actually get along just fine. Instead you make me do things like this. Now, don't mess with me on this," Samuel told him, tightening his grip on his arm. Jess put forth a great deal of effort to conceal that it hurt.

"I'm not!" Jess insisted.

"Who were you talking to?" the man asked him again.

"No one!" The hand around his throat didn't tighten so much as shift, a not so subtle reminder that it was there and could do what it wanted.

"Don't lie to me," Samuel ordered. "Who were you talking to?"

"No one," Jess lied. "No one else, at least," he continued at the infinitesimal tightening of the hand around his throat. "I was talking to myself. Well, to a character in my book, but he's not real… so really I was talking to myself." Samuel began to laugh and moved his hand around to the back of Jess's neck. The hold was still just as controlling when combined with the hold on Jess's wrist, but it wasn't nearly as threatening.

"And you think I'm the crazy one?" The man scoffed. "You're a freak, you know that?" Jess didn't answer. Samuel continued to laugh at him, but he also released him. Jess took a few steps back, resisting the urge to pull his aching wrist protectively towards his body. The guy kept laughing as he left the room, closing and locking the door behind him. Jess sighed in relief and sat on the end of his bed, wrapping his right arm around his stomach and rubbing absentmindedly at his throat with his left hand. Anger and humiliation warred for second billing within him, but the top spot went to an overwhelming sense of defeat and despair. He could still hear Liz's boyfriend rummaging around the apartment, and a few minutes later he heard the guy slam the front door on his way out.

Jess dropped both hands to his sides when he heard the closet door begin to open. Cy hesitated before actually exiting the closet, shooting Jess a questioning glance to ask if it was ok. Jess nodded. Neither boy made much of an attempt at eye contact.

"I take it I'm not supposed to be here?" Cy asked.

Jess let out a huff. "Not exactly." Cy sighed deeply and nodded.

"Should I go?" he asked. Jess shook his head.

"Fuck him," Jess answered, finally looking Cy in the eye. Cy chuckled a little.

"'That's the spirit, kid,'" Cy said in his best impression of Jess. Jess rolled his eyes in response, prompting Cy to smirk and shrug. He went to hand Jess back his tools, but Jess shook his head.

"Keep them. I've got another set."

"Thanks," Cy said, pocketing them. Jess just nodded in response, his mind still elsewhere. "Could have been worse, you know," Cy suggested.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You could've had a girl in that closet!"

Jess laughed softly. "And that would be why I always go to their apartments…"

"Probably best. Guy's an asshole," Cy told Jess. "Hey, you want to play some poker or something?" Jess offered a small smile.

"You deal," he answered.

* * *

 **A/N: Bonus points to anyone who recognizes Cy.**

 **It took me a bit longer than I expected to have time to get back to writing after my trip, so that's why this chapter was a bit later than I'd hoped. I'm not 100% sure when the next one will be up, but it will most likely be the last chapter.**

 **Response to reviews:**

 **Nancy: Jess's circumstances have changed a bit since you left your review on the last chapter. Liz is still Liz, but Jess does at least have a friend he can turn to now. Someone who knows what he's going through. Even a relatively safe apartment he can go to temporarily if need be (although it is an unreliable safe house given Cy's father). It's not enough, but it's something Jess hasn't truly had. I think these relationships here and there are the only things that allow Jess to hold onto something critical in him that eventually allows him to become the man he becomes. Thanks for the well wishes regarding my vacation! I enjoyed it immensely!**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has read this story all the way through. This should be the last chapter, although it's possible that I'll write an epilogue (which won't be posted any time soon). Thanks as well to everyone who has faved, followed, and reviewed. Thanks a million to my beta, christinegrrl, who was a tremendous help with this story and with giving me the confidence to post it.**

 **I could never quite make sense of when Jess's birthday was in canon (he seems to have been 17 for more than a year), so I've made a slight change to the timeline in canon in order to make his birthday make more sense to me. In this story Jess arrives in Stars Hollow in early-ish October rather than on Rory's first day of school. Everything else about his arrival is the same.**

 **Disclaimer: Alas, I have not gained the rights to Gilmore girls or _Hamilton_. **

* * *

Chapter 8: The Other Side of the War

"It was none of your business!" Liz slurred slightly as she yelled at Jess, pointing a half-empty beer bottle at him to emphasize her point. To Jess, it emphasized something else entirely.

"She's just a little kid, Liz!" Jess answered, unwilling at the moment to admit wrongdoing.

"How Tony chooses to discipline his child—"

"Discipline?" Jess scoffed. "Is that what you call it? She didn't even do anything!"

"That's not our call! You had no right to interfere!" Odd, Jess thought, that she never seemed to mind when her boyfriends _interfered_ with him. When they decided they knew better than she did how he should be "disciplined." She never minded enough to do anything about it, anyway. He'd think her a hypocrite, but he knew in reality she was staying true to a different principle: her boyfriends mattered more than her son.

If Jess was being honest with himself, he knew what he'd done was stupid. He'd violated one of his core principles: don't get involved. It only ever led to more trouble. Liz's boyfriends didn't usually have kids of their own, but when they did the kids usually played by the same rules. It was every kid for themselves. The only time Jess had trouble playing by those rules was with the little ones. The last time it had happened he'd been twelve and the other kid had been three. He'd been too young back then, too small, to do anything other than take the boy's beating for him, but he'd done it. This time had been different. Jess may have had bruises, but Tony had a lot more.

" _I_ had no right?" Jess asked, defending himself even as he secretly wondered if he'd done the right thing. " _He_ had no right to hurt her."

Jess still wasn't sure why he'd done it. It's not like he and the girl were close. He supposed she was less annoying than most 7-year-olds, but he knew better than to get attached. They were all just temporary. The boyfriends. The step-dads. The stepsiblings and pseudo-stepsiblings. The guy would be "the one" until he wasn't. A few days, a few weeks, a few months, maybe a year at the absolute most: it didn't make a difference. They all ended up gone. Getting attached just led to pain. He barely knew the girl, and he preferred it that way. Still, when he came home from school to find Tony hitting her, he just couldn't bring himself to go to his bedroom, turn on his music, and pretend he didn't know what was happening right outside his door. He couldn't do it. He'd pulled the man off the girl and they'd gone at it. Tony had a size advantage, but apparently he wasn't all that practiced at fighting someone who wasn't a 7-year-old girl. Jess was the better fighter, and he won the fight easily. Tony had run off with his tail between his legs, only to come home later complaining to Liz. She'd waited until the next morning, when the others were gone, to confront Jess about it.

"He had EVERY RIGHT," Liz shouted, "to discipline her!"

"You mean to abuse her?" Jess challenged. The ensuing slap stung, but it was far from surprising. He couldn't even find it in himself to be angry about it. He'd provoked her.

"Don't you _ever_ say anything like that again!" Liz said. "Tony is a good man!" Jess rolled his eyes at the words and started heading for the door.

"He would never abuse his daughter!" Liz insisted, tossing the words at Jess's back. "And where do you think you're going?" she added as Jess reached the door.

"Out!" he answered.

"We're not—" Jess slammed the door on the rest of her statement. He was done with the argument. It certainly wouldn't get him anywhere. He didn't feel like wasting his time anymore.

# # # # #

Cy's dad had been in a bad mood all week and Jess didn't think his own presence in their apartment would be welcome or do his friend any favors, so instead Jess spent half the day wandering the oddly empty streets of New York – it had been almost four weeks since most of the tourists disappeared and he still wasn't quite used to their absence. Eventually, he made his way to the park and spent the rest of the day reading. It was evening by the time Jess returned to the apartment. The scene he walked in on was about what he expected. It was the picture of domesticity if you weren't paying attention. All three of them were there: Liz, Tony, the little girl, Sarah. They were watching TV together as if nothing had happened. Sarah was curled up against her father's side, basking in his forgiveness, but Jess could tell she was still nervous. Just like he could see the strain in Liz's posture and how false Tony's nonchalance was. None of them had forgotten.

Tony's face darkened when Jess entered the room. Sarah looked up and was instantly terrified, slithering out of her father's arms and making her way swiftly to her room. Jess couldn't help but smirk at the bruises marring Tony's face. Jess had some bruises on his back and sides from being slammed into things, but Tony hadn't been able to get any real punches in. Jess's face was clear.

"Go to your room!" the man said.

"Yes, Sir!" Jess answered with heavy sarcasm, complete with a little mock salute. He did as he was told, but only because he was already planning to go to his room. They both knew Tony couldn't force the issue. Jess didn't feel the need to prove he could do what he wanted. The man glowered at being openly mocked, but he made no move to confront Jess. _Coward_ , Jess thought as he closed his door. It wasn't long before he started to hear arguing from the other room come through his walls.

"I will not be disrespected in my own home!" Tony said.

"I know, I know, baby, I tried to talk to him…" Liz said, trying to appease her boyfriend.

"Clearly it didn't work!"

Jess thought about turning on his music to drown it all out, but he wanted to know what they were saying about him. He wanted to know if he needed to watch his back even more than he habitually did.

"I'll talk to him again, ok? But you should just forget him, baby, he doesn't matter!"

"I should teach him a lesson! Talking clearly isn't getting through to the boy!" Jess chuckled. The man could try to _teach him a lesson,_ but he certainly wouldn't succeed!

Liz was quiet for a moment, and there was hesitation in her voice when she spoke again. "If… if you really think that's necessary." Jess shook his head, exhaling sharply. _Thanks a lot, Liz._

"IF it's necessary?" the man yelled. "Your little bastard hit me!"

"I know, baby, and he shouldn't have, but—"

"But what? You siding with him now?" _Of course not,_ Jess thought.

"Of course not!" _See?_ "You do what you have to. I'll support you. I just think maybe it's better if the two of you keep your distance." _Yeah, because you know I'll kick his ass. Wouldn't want that._ Jess smirked.

"You know what?" the man asked, suddenly sounding calm. "You're right. We should keep our distance. In fact, I'm pretty sure we shouldn't live under the same roof." Jess's smirk died at that.

"Baby…"

"I'm serious, Liz. He goes, or I go. Him or me. Choose." Jess shot away from the door. He didn't need or want to hear Liz's answer. He turned on his music, pulled out his duffle bag, and started packing. He didn't know where he was going to go, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed to stay with Liz. It was another two hours before she knocked on his door. The only surprise was that she seemed almost sober.

He didn't answer her knock, and he was sitting on his bed reading when she entered anyway. She looked from the duffle bag on the floor to her son.

"You packed?" There was confusion in her eyes.

"You're kicking me out." It wasn't a question. "You're choosing him." To her credit, Liz at least had the decency to look a little bit sheepish.

"It's for the best, Jess."

"Whatever you say, Liz."

"Jess…"

"When do I have to leave?" Jess's voice was emotionless and he kept his eyes trained on his book.

"Jess…" Liz trailed off without finishing.

"When do I have to leave?" Jess repeated, tone sharpening. He wasn't even arguing. The least she could do was give him a freaking answer. "Now?" he asked, fearing that was the reason she was avoiding telling him.

"In the morning," Liz finally answered. "You can stay the night."

"How generous of you," he spat, trying to hide his relief as he finally looked back up at her.

"That's not fair!" Liz whined. _Are you freaking serious?_ Jess thought. _That's not fair?_ "You forced my hand, here, Jess! You shouldn't have interfered! And it wouldn't have hurt if you'd shown him an ounce of respect every once in a while!"

"He doesn't deserve my respect!" Liz's eyes grew cold at that. Even sober, you don't insult her man.

"Say that again and you can sleep on the streets tonight. He makes me happy. At the very least, you should respect that." _Plenty of things make you happy,_ Jess thought. _Few of them are respectable._

"Whatever, Liz. Just leave me alone, ok? I'll be gone by the time you get up. You and Tony can live happily ever after together." Liz turned to leave, her anger having dissipated at her son's acquiescence, but she stopped before exiting the room.

"Don't," she told him quietly.

"Don't what?" Jess asked, exasperated. What did she think he was going to do between now and the morning?

"Don't go before I'm up. I'll… I'll make arrangements for you. In the morning." With that, Liz left the room. Jess stared at the door after she closed it behind her, torn between relief and concern about what kind of "arrangements" his mother would make for him.

Jess didn't sleep that night. He stayed up reading in case Tony decided it was his last chance to "teach Jess a lesson" and tried to ambush him when he was sleeping and couldn't defend himself. Apparently, however, Tony felt getting thrown out was enough of a lesson. Jess stayed in his room even after he heard the rest of the household get up and leave. A little while later he heard the front door open and Liz come back in. He heard snippets of a conversation: something about "the wrong crowd" and "I can't do it anymore" and "someone's gotta straighten him out, man." He might've worried about military school, but even if Liz had the money for that, she certainly wouldn't spend it on him. A few minutes later, Liz came into his room.

"You ready?" she asked him.

"Yup," he answered, standing and grabbing his bag without looking at Liz.

"It really is for the best, you know," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"So you said. Where am I going, anyway?" Liz beamed at him, and Jess shifted so that her hand fell from his shoulder. She didn't seem to notice.

"I mean it, Jess, this'll be good for you! You're going to stay with your uncle!" Her excitement ate at him.

" _Luke_?" he asked, incredulous.

"I know you don't know him all that well, but your uncle's a good man, Jess. He'll take care of you, you'll see. He'll be good to you, I promise. He's a family man at heart. He's just… he's a really, really good man." The words might have been more comforting if she hadn't used the same words to describe every boyfriend she'd ever had. Every boyfriend who'd ever beaten, bullied, or berated him. Or worse. She'd brought a lot of "good men" into his life, and they'd all left their scars in one way or another. He had no real reason to think Luke would be any different. He'd been nice enough the few times he'd met the guy, but Jess knew all too well that that really didn't mean anything.

"Come on, Jess," Liz said, "You've got a bus to catch. I've already got you the ticket." Liz waved the ticket in the air to demonstrate and said, "I'll walk you to the terminal, and I'll send the rest of your stuff later. This is gonna work out great!" She was still grinning at him like an idiot; like he was supposed to be happy about this. He grabbed the ticket from her.

"I know where the terminal is. I don't need a babysitter to walk me there." Her smile faltered as he walked past her.

"Ok," she said, not following him, "be good!"

Jess strode out of the room, but he slowed when he caught sight of Sarah on the couch. He'd thought she'd left. She looked at him sadly, her expression saying, "I'm sorry" and "don't leave me alone with these people" all rolled into one. He didn't have a choice. He went back into his room, grabbed one of the first books he'd ever stolen, kid's stuff, and quickly left before Liz had a chance to say anything else. He tossed the book to the girl without a word and hurried on his way. It was the most he could do for her. He never saw her, or the book, again.

# # # # #

Jess slept a little and read a lot on the bus ride to Connecticut, promising himself that when he got to his new "home," he'd make more of an effort to not get involved. He'd gotten involved twice in two years. The first had gained him a friend, but the second had cost him his entire world. Before he knew it, he had arrived in a tiny town called Stars Hollow. The man he presumed to be his uncle had a goofy smile plastered on his face when he saw Jess.

"Jess," Luke said.

"Luke," Jess answered, not returning the smile. Jess had a talent for making smiles falter, and Luke's was no exception. The pair exchanged few words as Jess followed Luke through the town, into the diner, and up to Luke's apartment.

"Well, here we are," Luke said as Jess entered the room.

Jess tried to keep his expectations low in life, but he had to admit, he was hoping for more than one room. He hadn't expected his own room, of course, but he figured Luke would at least have a room for himself. Apparently "out of sight, out of mind" wasn't going to be much of an option in this apartment. They'd be living on top of each other. Tensions were bound to run high. For a month, when he was eight, he'd shared a studio apartment with his mom and her boyfriend Frank. Every time something happened that would've made one of the other guys yell at him to "go to his room," Frank just beat the shit out of him instead.

"It's pretty simple," Luke continued. "This is the room. That's my bed. That's your, uh, bed, for now, but the sheets are new." His "bed" was an air mattress. Convenient. _Temporary._ Why invest in a kid who won't be here long, right? "For now"? Jess would believe that when he saw it. Even odds Luke would boot him out for one reason or another before buying him an actual bed.

Jess was more than a little concerned with the bed situation itself. The air mattress was less than ideal, but he'd slept on far worse. The fact that said air mattress was located directly next to and below his uncle's bed, however, worried him. He wasn't comfortable falling asleep in such close proximity to a man he didn't really know and certainly didn't trust. Jess would be at an extreme tactical disadvantage if Luke ever tried to hurt him while he was in bed or sleeping. He didn't like it, but he couldn't exactly complain without admitting fear and weakness, or at least paranoia, so he said nothing.

Unaware of the thoughts running through the silent boy's head, Luke continued. "There's the bathroom. There's the closet. There's the dresser. The phone. And over there's the kitchen." Jess took special notice of the phone in case he ever needed it to call for help, not that he'd ever actually done such an outrageous thing, and casually took note of the other things. It was a good thing he hadn't brought much, because it didn't seem like there was anywhere for it to go.

"I've got Frosted Flakes!" Luke said, as if that was incredible news.

"Wow, that's grrrr-eat!" Jess answered. Luke, at least, took the sarcasm in stride.

"So, is that all your stuff?" Luke asked, noting the not even full duffle bag.

"Yup."

"Not much there," Luke noted. Jess had packed relatively lightly, at first, because he assumed he'd be on the street. Having too much stuff could make you a target for theft. When he'd learned that his mother was going to make "arrangements" for him, he hadn't added much to his bag. He'd even removed a favorite book. He didn't know what kind of arrangements she'd make or what he'd be allowed to bring, and he didn't want anything too important confiscated by whoever was in charge wherever he ended up. He might've added more when he found out he'd be staying with Luke, but he and Liz had both been in a hurry to get him out of the place he used to call home (although it had been a long time since he'd truly considered any of Liz's apartments a "home"). It didn't matter to him, anyway. He'd never needed much to survive.

"Well, Lizzie's sending the rest later," Jess told Luke. _When she gets around to it. If she gets around to it._

"So, you need some help?" _With one bag?_ Jess thought.

"Nope," Jess answered while dumping the entire bag on his "bed." Another kind of man might've gotten the message: You gave me this bed. I'm claiming it. I'm marking my territory. This bed, if nowhere else in this apartment, is _mine._

"Ok, uh, I have to get back to the diner. I'm gonna close up at 10 tonight, so I thought—" Jess didn't wait to see what his uncle had been thinking. He was pretty sure he'd want nothing to do with it.

"See ya at 10!" Jess said as he started towards the door.

"But wait, you need keys!"

"No, I don't!" With that, Jess was gone. He hadn't needed a key since he was a little kid. Neither of the locks he'd encountered on his way in would pose much of an obstacle. Not that it would've ended up being an issue, anyway, as after a couple of hours in the picturesque personal hell that was Stars Hollow, Jess was ready to retreat back to the apartment above the diner. Of course, to do that he had to actually get through the diner, and that required going past his uncle and the woman trying _way too hard_ to be nice to him. No one was that nice to strangers for no reason.

# # # # #

When it was time for bed, Jess grabbed his pillow and blanket and headed for the couch. His uncle watched his movement with narrowed eyes before speaking.

"What're you doing?" Luke asked. Jess turned to look at him, blanket and pillow still in hand.

"Making a pillow fort," Jess answered. Luke narrowed his eyes further and crossed his arms. Jess sighed. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm sleeping on the couch."

"Your bed's over here," Luke said.

"The couch will be more comfortable. Those things are bad for your back." That, of course, wasn't the real reason Jess was trying to insist on the couch. He just wanted to be higher up and a little further away from Luke's bed, and the couch was his best bet. Luke stared at him for a few moments, tapping the fingers of his right hand against his arm before seeming to come to a decision.

"Alright," Luke said with the air of a man in charge, "here's what we're gonna do: you're going to sleep in my bed, and I'm going to sleep on the air mattress."

"No."

"It'll be a lot more comfortable than the couch," Luke insisted.

"I'm not taking your bed. I'll be fine on the couch."

"No one is sleeping on the couch," Luke said. "You're taking the bed, and that's final." Jess considered his options. He could push his uncle here and now and see just how far he could go, or he could give a little and maybe buy himself at least one night of peace. He looked over at the bed. It wouldn't solve the proximity issue, but it would at least help alleviate the other half of Jess's tactical disadvantage. He'd be higher up, and attacking from below was significantly harder than attacking from above. He wasn't going to have his music tonight, so odds were he'd be awake and ready to defend himself at the slightest noise.

"Fine," Jess relented. He crossed the room and switched his pillow and blanket out with the one's on his uncle's bed. Luke smiled and started moving some of Jess's belongings off of the air mattress. Jess tensed slightly, feeling the move was a bit presumptuous, but he let it slide. It's not like it would've been reasonable to expect Luke to sleep on a bed covered in Jess's stuff. He just wished Luke had asked him to move it. It may not be much, but for the time being it was all he had and he was protective of it. Too often his possessions had ended up destroyed or stolen when they wound up in the hands of others. He knew that wasn't Luke's intent, but he still resented it a little. Luke didn't seem to notice the shift in his nephew's mood, or at least made no comment on it.

"'Night," Luke said as he lay down. Jess didn't answer until Luke looked up at him expectantly.

"Goodnight," Jess answered, settling into Luke's bed. His uncle started snoring long before Jess felt comfortable enough to sleep. If he'd had more than an hour of sleep on the bus, he doubted he'd have slept at all.

Jess was woken later that night by the sound of the air mattress popping and his uncle's subsequent cursing. He shot up into a seated position as Luke wrestled with the rapidly deflating plastic. The man didn't notice that Jess was awake until he'd gotten to his knees and looked up.

"Sorry," the man huffed, "bed popped. Go back to sleep. I'll figure something out in the morning." Jess very reluctantly lay back down. _He_ should've been on that bed, and Luke knew that. The guy had every right to be pissed. Given the weight discrepancy between them, the thing might not even have popped if Jess had been on it. He continued to watch Luke warily until Luke glanced up again and noticed.

"Go to sleep, Jess!" The annoyance in his voice was clear enough. Jess hesitated, weighing the potential that this was a trick against the potential that failing to do as he was told would send the guy over the edge. Eventually, he closed his eyes, pretended to sleep, and silently prepared to defend himself against blows that never came.

* * *

 **A/N: The End (Probably)**

 **Sorry for the length of this A/N. Although this story is most likely over, I'd still really love to hear any thoughts you might have about this chapter, the story in general, or anything else (either through a review or a PM). Even if you read this years from now, I'll still love to hear from you! And as always, remember that you can leave anonymous reviews if you don't have an account.**

 **I'm considering writing another story in the same series as this story and its sequel, "Guilt," so I'd love to know if folks would be interested in reading such a story. I have scenes from two possible stories floating around in my head, so if anyone is so inclined I'd also love to know if you have a preference for one over the other.**

 **Option 1) A story that begins pretty much immediately after this one ends and focuses on Jess's early days/weeks/months in Stars Hollow (not sure when I'd end it just yet, but sometime prior to my story "Guilt").**

 **Option 2) A story that starts shortly after the events of "Guilt" that would focus primarily on Jess's relationships with Luke, Lorelai, and Rory as well as him dealing with past demons and the trauma of the events of "Guilt."**

 **Would anyone be interested in either of those stories? If so, do you have a preference for which one? I can't guarantee that either will materialize as it will likely be months before I have time to sit down and write them and muses and life can be unpredictable, but I'd like to know if there's any interest as I've found that very motivating in the past. Thanks in advance to anyone who takes the time to respond!**

 **Response to reviews:**

 **Nancy: thanks as always for your consistent reviews. I always look forward to reading them. I'm glad that you liked Jess' relationship with Cy, and yes it's troubling to realize that such things are happening all around us (but that's why I think it's important to tell this kind of story, honestly). Unfortunately no fairy-tale ending for Cy and his mother in this chapter, but Jess did get rescued in a sense. He's in the best place he can be, and from an author's perspective (whether it ever gets put into a story or not), his relationship with Cy isn't over.  AJ Granger: thanks to you, as well, for all of your reviews. Thank you so much for the feedback, and I'm glad you liked the relationship between Jess and Cy and the way that Jess helps him out. Whocares: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Sorry the update didn't come all that soon! I hope you enjoy the final (for now?) chapter. **


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